My First Riot
This might be the title of either of our daughter's "What I did last summer" essay. "Mom and Dad took me to Edinburgh where we watched police in riot gear hold back a group of people who were trying to make a political statement but making it very badly. Dad says that the ones who look like Darth Vader were actually the good guys."
This morning we decided to make a day trip to Lindisfarne, the Holy Island, which is about 60 miles down the coast from Edinburgh. As we left, we heard on the radio that police were anticipating a demonstration of some sort today, a demonstration independent of the Live8 events, but were not sure what to expect because organizers would not tell them what they were planning.
As we returned to town this evening, we heard on the radio that violence had broken out earlier in the day, mainly on Princess Street (a few blocks from our flat) but spilling over into the side streets. We came into the city center, parked the car, and began walking. One of us, and I won't say who because that person would be really embarrassed, had to go to the toilet. We were near a posh hotel at the time, and tried to duck in there to use the restroom, but two really well dressed people with designer clothes and designer hair and designer tans were minding the door. One opened the door a crack, and with a terrified look on her face, informed us that the hotel was closed to non-residents at the moment.
As we continued up to the junction of Princess Street and North Bridge the crowds were thick, and police and ambulance vehicles were lining the road. There, on the corner, was a Burger King. Now, we have not eaten at any American franchise restaurants since we left the US, but I was pretty sure that I could find a loo at BK, and I was willing to buy a burger for the privilege of using it. We got there just before they closed (early, on the advice of the police), and thankfully, they didn't ask us to leave after we finished our fries. We watched the lines of police advance, and move the protestors back, and then the manager suggested we move away from the windows, and then suggested we move upstairs (where there are no windows). So there we were, Americans, taking refuge in a Burger King in Edinburgh, along with a group of Italians and some Japanese students.
Eventually, the police began to relax, and that made me relax too. When troops came in to use the loo (thank you God for Burger King), one offered to walk us out. British police are so sweet. Such nice young people. So after the Italians posed for a picture with the officer, he escorted us past the police line, and we walked up North Bridge to the Royal Mile, turned at Hunter's Square, and here we are safe as houses, in our Blair Street flat.
That's the news from Edinburgh. Good Night.
This morning we decided to make a day trip to Lindisfarne, the Holy Island, which is about 60 miles down the coast from Edinburgh. As we left, we heard on the radio that police were anticipating a demonstration of some sort today, a demonstration independent of the Live8 events, but were not sure what to expect because organizers would not tell them what they were planning.
As we returned to town this evening, we heard on the radio that violence had broken out earlier in the day, mainly on Princess Street (a few blocks from our flat) but spilling over into the side streets. We came into the city center, parked the car, and began walking. One of us, and I won't say who because that person would be really embarrassed, had to go to the toilet. We were near a posh hotel at the time, and tried to duck in there to use the restroom, but two really well dressed people with designer clothes and designer hair and designer tans were minding the door. One opened the door a crack, and with a terrified look on her face, informed us that the hotel was closed to non-residents at the moment.
As we continued up to the junction of Princess Street and North Bridge the crowds were thick, and police and ambulance vehicles were lining the road. There, on the corner, was a Burger King. Now, we have not eaten at any American franchise restaurants since we left the US, but I was pretty sure that I could find a loo at BK, and I was willing to buy a burger for the privilege of using it. We got there just before they closed (early, on the advice of the police), and thankfully, they didn't ask us to leave after we finished our fries. We watched the lines of police advance, and move the protestors back, and then the manager suggested we move away from the windows, and then suggested we move upstairs (where there are no windows). So there we were, Americans, taking refuge in a Burger King in Edinburgh, along with a group of Italians and some Japanese students.
Eventually, the police began to relax, and that made me relax too. When troops came in to use the loo (thank you God for Burger King), one offered to walk us out. British police are so sweet. Such nice young people. So after the Italians posed for a picture with the officer, he escorted us past the police line, and we walked up North Bridge to the Royal Mile, turned at Hunter's Square, and here we are safe as houses, in our Blair Street flat.
That's the news from Edinburgh. Good Night.
posted by Deborah G. Celley at 7/04/2005 12:43:00 PM
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