Moments before, I had been interviewing one of fifteen very brave people. It was Friday, long after the fence hand been broken and the cops had driven the crowd back a full block. These fifteen brave souls had slowly, cautiously walked back up to the police line. As they crept forward they raised their hands in the peace sign. Then they sat. The were surrounded on all sides, outnumered at least ten to one.

No one was throwing rocks at this point. No one was doing anything. Nothing at all. They were just sitting there — outside the security fence, sitting silently.

Then they came. Landing maybe twenty feet behind us, fanned by the helicopter flying low overhead. The gas was on us. It was worse than APEC — Even Srgt. Pepper gave out one warning before he attacked. They just shot pain. The cloud descended on us. It raped our respiratory tract. It clawed at our eyes. Mucus poured down our face like a fiery nose bleed.

I wanted to throw something, but there was nothing around. Had there been I would have thrown it. I think I would feel better, even if I was in jail. Anything is better than how I feel now. I have anger and fear and the deepest sense of injustice and I don’t know where to put those feelings.

And until they savagely invade your body — your lungs — with toxic gas, you cannot understand how that feels and what it makes you want to do.