|12:37 pm - and the rain|
They're preparing to batten down the hatches here at the building, I discovered when I went out to get some lunch. There is a barricade up on the plaza - at the moment it's protecting a band of hardy smokers from marauding potted plants, mostly - and the extra security forces are starting to trickle in. Including a couple of women who looked about 12 to me - I grow old, trousers rolled - but were probably just newly minted in any case. We got the standard "There is a protest scheduled on the plaza blah blah blah" email this morning, but since things apparently aren't scheduled to begin here until 5 pm there hasn't been the mass utilization of the liberal leave policy. If it were sunny out, I imagine it would be different.
I'm here late tonight, but I'll still probably not get to see the crowd in all its glory, as I exit the building from the other side to catch my bus home. I'm sure I will hear them, though. Sound travels oddly well, and my cubie is right next to the window on the plaza side. Perhaps there will be mounted police later - I enjoy watching the horses and their different personalities. I can often see them because they usually post themselves across the street; it's pretty clear they are taking measures to seem non-threatening, just there in case of trouble.
I wish I felt protest gatherings did more good than simply giving people an outlet for their energy - we gather in far larger crowds for sports events, so sheer numbers are not likely to impress. I wonder if somehow apathy is the flip-side of tolerance, sometimes. Not that it has to be, certainly, just that it falls out that way due to primate laziness. I don't know.