My time at Occupy Oakland. Hanging with the 99 percenters. 2011

I spent a few weeks at the occupy movement in Oakland, camped out like a forest ranger in the park by the civic center. It is normally called Frank Ogawa Plaza, but for the time of the protest it was always referred to as Oscar Grant Plaza. Why? Who the fuck knows? The dead delinquent had nothing to do with Wall Street or politics. I am told he was a victim of “The Man.” I thought he was shot by a dumb cop who couldn’t tell the difference between his Taser and his Glock. A lot of people tried to convince me what a noble fellow Oscar was. Each time it came up I asked if they knew him personally; no one did. “How do you know what an honorable and noble fellow he was?”

Yeah, there were Oscar Grant fans there. There were a lot issues besides Oscar that were brought to the forefront each day. Some were there to protest their growing student debt. I asked them, “Are you still going to college?” Yes. “Why don’t you quit and stop going into debt?” Invariably, the answers were that “The Man” will eventually forgive all student debt so there was no need to drop out of school. “Dude, when this revolution is done, no one will owe a dime on a student loan.” Shit, I paid my student loans years ago. I should have let them ride and let “The Man” take care of them.

A typical day at the camp started just after midnight when the first of two or more drunks/stoners fell on my tent, keeping me wide awake. I never had a good night’s sleep there. I’d fall asleep for a little while and then the guys in the tent next to mine would start making love, usually about 3am. They sounded like hogs going at it. Their tent would shake and the poles would rattle. Sometimes they had an audience who would stand next to my tent and clap and cheer for their orgasms.

A couple of times I went to the community kitchen to see what there was to eat for breakfast. There was a lot of organic this and natural that cooking in pots. It wasn’t the food that I distrusted; it was the people cooking it. It was hardly a sanitary affair. I am still surprised there was not an E-Coli outbreak. I knew a lot of folks who had the trots. That caused a real crisis for our toilet facilities. I noticed a few guys and gals squatting like dogs on the lawn as the lines at the porta potties were too long and the urge of their diarrhea too great! I think this pissed off a lot of dogs as they spent their time trying to reclaim that territory with their own poop.  

The morning porta potty wait became a ritual. I would often find myself with the same people in line day after day at sun up. Sometimes we’d sing songs. There were a lot spontaneous chants that would arise. “Get the fuck out of the toilet!’ was my favorite. It tended to move the line along.

Well, in the mornings I usually took a walk to McDonalds or a coffee shop for some eggs and good ol’ processed meats. I was told by many that there was not enough food for all thru the community kitchen. It ran out often. When it didn’t run out, the food was very bad. After a while some of the nearby coffee shops closed during the protest and I had to walk farther for lunch and dinner. I’d be damned if I was going to eat anything made by “Natural Dan” and “Constantly Stoned and Happy Katey.” I was talking to “Constantly Stoned and Happy Katey” while she was making a dinner dish one night. She suddenly sneezed into the pot. She winked at me and said, “You didn’t see that.” Yeah, I did. I nearly threw up my Big Mac thinking of all the folks who were going to be dining on that later.

There were anti-war protesters there in droves. “Out of Afghanistan” read many signs. I talked to a nice couple who were singing some old protest songs. The guy looked like a young version of Pete Seeger and the lady looked like any other Dead Head/Phish Following Spin dancer. Should I say she had an “earthy” scent about her? “We gotta pull our troops out now!”

Another group out there at Occupy was the Tree Huggers contingent. This consisted of various backwoods types of hippies. Some were more concerned with global warming, others were the true tree hugger who literally save trees. One guy was very proud of the Redwood Trees he had spiked. Spiking a tree is hammering a metal spike deep into a tree so when a chainsaw hits the spike it breaks the chain injuring or possibly killing the lumberjack. The most creative of this group was the fellow who occupied a tree, calling himself an Ohlone Indian and declaring the tree his reservation or tribal property.

Many of the people I describe above were affiliated with socialism or socialist parties. There were people there who called themselves socialists and some who referred to themselves as communists. There were even those who called themselves anarchists and openly promoted the violent overthrow of the United States Government. All three of these groups advocated distinct and sudden changes to be made to our government. According to many in these particular groups, the current system of government provided through the U. S. Constitution is antiquated and unresponsive to the needs of the 99%.

Yep, I said, “Hey, good luck with that!”