Content Warning: this piece contains strong language (swearing, references to alcohol and marijuana)
There is so much going on in the world today that the world feels like total chaos and things are out of control. I'm trying to live through this fucking pandemic and to top things off there are protests in my neighborhood for the BLM (Black Lives Matter) movement the past two weeks. Between the social distancing, isolation, and living in the middle of CHOP (Capitol Hill Occupy Protest) in Seattle, I'm trying to keep my stress level low and keep myself from going insane.
I'm going to get out today even though there's rain. I want to see what's going on because last night I heard protesters breaking glass at the police station and chanting all night. Total Anarchy. After getting up and into my power chair with help from Azeb, I leave my apartment on 12th and head north to Pine Street. I see dozens of people walking in the middle of the streets; they’re curious to see what is going on. Feels like a Block Party.
The police station is boarded up already and protesters dressed in Black Bloc are sitting all around the entrance like they own the place. There's a huge black cloth mural draped over the entrance that says in white spray paint: "Property of the People of Seattle". The police are nowhere to be found and everyone is doing whatever they want.
Driving my chair further west down Pine on the sidewalk, I find an awning to sit under to get out of the rain. Since I am not wearing a mask, I sit by myself away from people observing all activity. Looking down Pine, I feel like I'm a giant outside the Urban Art Museum because of the way all the buildings are tagged with colorful graffiti and murals. It's like being in a dream. Dozens of versions of BLM tags are everywhere. Some are orange, blue, purple, made with different fonts. Every artist has a different unique rendition. Some tags decorating the walls include “Fuck SPD”, “ACAB”, “Cop-Free Zone”, and “Remember Brianna Taylor”. On the boarded-up Stout restaurant there is a huge realistic mural of George Floyd's face and underneath it says RIP.
More and more people are showing up, including families with kids. Hard to believe that a couple weeks ago everyone was told by Governor Inslee to stay inside and social distance, but nobody cares anymore. Now it's a free-for-all shitshow and everybody is getting along while they check out the festivities at CHOP.
There's a DJ playing music while he preaches social injustice. On the corner of Pine and 11th in front of the Rhino Room, someone has set up a pop-up Market and giving away hot meals and fresh produce to anyone hungry. The Dirty Dog hot dog vendor at the other corner by me is making a killing right now with all these people hanging around. He's probably selling more Seattle dogs today than he has all of last month.
After the rain subsides, I drive around checking things out. I go down Pine to 11th, passing Dirty Dogs. The smell of the grilling dogs makes me feel like I am at a summer cookout. Turning down 11th, there are people smoking weed on couches and La-Z-Boys set up in the middle of the road. I love that pungent skunky smell.
I keep going and see that the Hugo House is all boarded up. The plywood on the windows says “Black Lives Matter” in black and white paint with different color stick figures underneath; the thick brush strokes signifying Unity. Stopping in front of the Hugo House under a green metal awning, I see a big group of protesters marching across the field of Cal Anderson Park. The sea of different colored umbrellas look surreal, like a floating Chinese dragon at a New Year's Festival.
As I sit there, my talkative middle-aged black homeless friend Chris slowly walks towards me. He is wearing a light green Fisherman's cap, dirty blue jeans, and a brown Carhartt jacket.
He greets me. "You know this Black Lives Matter movement ain't so bad,” he says. “I am benefiting from it right now."
"What do you mean? Like people are giving you money?"
"Yeees! Big time." Nodding with a smile and his eyes wide open. "I think everyone giving me money makes them feel good about themselves. Like they're making a contribution to the movement. Whatever the reason. I can't complain!" Letting out a bellowing sneaky laugh like he just won the lotto.
After I enthusiastically congratulate him, he goes to Uma Bop restaurant at the corner and gets some pork pot stickers with his newfound fortune for us to share. I’m a little bit nervous sharing with him, but he uses hand sanitizer before helping me eat so I think I'm safe from Covid. He dips a couple of pot stickers in sweet spicy sauce and feeds them to me. He tries to finish the rest, but they gave him so many extra he is unable. He puts the rest in a small backpack for later.
"Best damn pot stickers I've ever had!" he says, busting out his sneaky laugh again. He pulls out a joint. "You wanna smoke? Someone gave me a whole bunch of weed."
"Sure! I'll puff with you but let me start it up just to be safe."
He puts the joint in my mouth and lights me up. Screw it. I've been dealing with enough lately so maybe this will chill me out and help me deal. When in Rome…plus the cops aren't around anyways, so fuck it. I take a few drags, coughing, and then he takes it from my mouth and finishes the tiny rolly joint.
He starts babbling. "I just heard that people are making flour out of crickets for consumption. Crickets! Can you believe that? Disgusting."
"I heard that too,” I said. “I think it's because of the protein content. Like a protein powder!”
"Would you try it?”
"Hell yeah! I'd try a cricket protein powder buttered waffle with maple syrup. That sounds delicious right now."
We both laugh really hard.
Someone approaches us slowly, hunched over, wearing a skull face mask and a blue bandana holding back her purple long hair.
"What up, dudes. It's me, Darcy." She pulls down her mask and points to herself. She's one of my bartender friends I’ve met a couple times.
"Hey Darcy!” I say. “We're just chilling in Chop. You want to hang? We were just about to have a drink. I have some vodka but no mixers"
"Oh, I got you,” she says, taking charge. “I know the owner of Dirty Dogs. I'll get us something."
She runs down to the hot dog stand and hooks us up with some orange soda and red plastic party cups. She grabs the Four Freedoms out of my bag and makes us all drinks. She holds up the drinks for a toast. "To Chop Life."
"To Chop Life," we both respond, taking a sip of the delicious mixed drink she created.
"I should get that tattooed across my knuckles." Joking around with her.
"I could put it on with a Sharpie! I have one in my bag," she says wittily.
"No, no, no. I'm not going to do it. I'll never be able to get that shit off," I reply with a big smirk on my face.
"So, are you going to give me a tour of your hood or what?" Darcy demands.
"Fuck yeah, we can show you around the park and see what's going on. I want to see what they're doing on Pine Street. Then we can head over to the park benches by the basketball courts and see what’s going on over there."
After finishing our cocktails, we turn around and head back towards Pine, passing the smoking lounge area and Dirty Dogs. By now, it’s not raining so I don’t have to worry about getting my wheelchair wet. Strolling down the road on Pine, I can finally see what's happening. In the middle two lanes, people are painting a huge Black Lives Matter mural that stretches a whole block from 10th to 11th. Each letter is being painted by opposing artists so every letter has its own unique personality. The coolest art I’ve seen all day.
We stop at all the snack vendors set up along the sidewalk to pick up some free munchies and drinks. We get some Cheez-Its, Tim's potato chips, Clif bars, and Gatorade. Score! Everyone's being so kind and generous. Like a small little loving community. Everyone's got each other's backs and are willing to help anyone out.
After entering the park, I go ahead, leading the way to the basketball court benches, passing the skatepark and the tennis courts. Once I get to the empty basketball courts, I speed up my chair as fast as it can go. I do a long drift on the damp cement as I turn around and face them, showing off my donut driving skills.
"I knew you were going to do that! Did I not tell you he was going to do that?" Chris says to Darcy, laughing hysterically.
We decide to have another drink, so Darcy works her magic and sets us up for round two. We hang around looking at all the changes in the park, including a freshly erected thirty-foot tall wood statue of a Black Power fist placed on home plate of the baseball field and more food vendor canopy tents set up along the 1st and 3rd Base lines.
Darcy suddenly lifts up her glass and screams to random strangers. "Chop Life!"
As we sit there enjoying each other’s company, I look at Chris. “So, you think all this is going to make a difference?” I ask. “You think there will be change?
“Are you kidding? I’ve been living through this kind of thing for decades and ain’t nothing ever changes. They’re still going to kill us.”
Spending the day with Chris and Darcy helped me cope with all the stresses and turmoil going on in the world right now. I felt like I was living in a once-in-a-lifetime political movement. Only time will tell if there will be any changes because of what happened at CHOP.
Author: John Mistur
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