The Homefront Failure

the night before march 2, i wrote "please rain tomorrow" on a post-it and left on my monitor in case the weather gods came to my screen for advice. because rain meant being paid an extra $25 to walk across the golden gate bridge.

it rained.

it rained and i almost died.

i remember always laughing at the pained faces of tourists as we'd tumble across the bridge in our double-decker buses-- i would advise my passengers to face their backs toward the west because the wind would act like a really gentle back massage rather than a frigid punch to the teeth.

but that was went i was a tour guide; that was when i could stand on a moving bus with no hands, wasn't afraid of a little wind, and had the traffic lights memorized to a point that i could time jokes around them like a comedic metronome.

things are different these days.

this is the a shot of the golden gate bridge the morning we crossed.

during the set-up, we were informed that none of us could use the restrooms because we were on a very tight schedule and had to be across the bridge by 11am, and then a select amount of us were handed a 36" x 48" poster of kim jong-il with an X through his face.

"do not let go of these posters," they shouted at us, "we've only gotten this event okayed by the city by promising not to do any damage to the bay. do not lose the posters. hold on tight, no matter what."

and then they handed me one.

"i don't know about this," i said feeling the wind, "i'm like 90lbs and this is going to be a sail."

"just hold on to it."

so i held my pee and held my poster, and we began.

the wind whipped my hair into my eyes and the rain drenched us immediately. a few people wore cheap clear ponchos, but the wind sent them flying like frantic plastic ghosts in matter of minutes.

i immediately hated carrying the kim jong-il poster. i could feel the wind pushing me off track and i had to lean all of my weight against it, angling the board to deflect the gales as best as possible.

one hundred and twenty-five dollars. one hundred and twenty-five dollars.
it was scary, but not unbearable until we reached the golden gate's first tower. that was when i was reminded of thrust, lift, drag, and weight-- how airplanes work. it was when i almost died.

marching around the side of the tower on a day with 65mph winds is about as smart as attempting to take a crap while on a roller coaster. use your imagination. the minute we turned the corner, the wind-power tripled and our protest signs transformed into foam core gust-catchers. my wiry body was thrown against the bridge's rail and several people were knocked on the ground. those still standing grabbed me and helped push me behind the tower where the wind was dead and we could all laugh nervously before deciding how in hell we were expected to continue the march.

some of the older folk actually stayed down on their hands and knees and crawled, explaining the power of a lower center of gravity.

i angled my protest board and ran full-force, only to be slammed by the wind a second time, slip, and get chucked right back against the rail like an embarrassed boomerang.

one hundred and twenty-five dollars. one hundred and twenty-five dollars.
no matter what i did, i couldn't escape the wind. it was set on knocking me and my stupid sign off the bridge to see if it could gain more publicity. ultimately, a good five of us huddled together and walked against the wind like a gigantic ten-legged north korean-hating monster.

and at the second tower, we marched through the wind and no matter how hard it tried, it was not able to knock us off our feet. we could see the end of the bridge, we could see the yellow buses waiting, and absolutely nothing was going to prevent us from getting off that fucking bridge and back to our homes.

by the end of it, none of us were even pretending to be protesters anymore. we were just trying to finish the stupid event as fast as we could without dying.

the very next day, my friends and co-workers all told me they'd heard about the event in the news. but they said nothing about the golden gate bridge. in fact, it seemed like no one even knew the bridge stunt had happened-- that i'd marched through death-taunting conditions for no purpose beyond a $125 check which [ultimately] seemed hardly worth the experience.

everyone was talking about the yerba buena gardens, and how the protesters released 10,000 red balloons into the sky. those balloons floated a bit and then proceeded to drop in the san francisco bay.


after all this talk about how we'd better hang on to our protest signs and keep them from being thrown into the water (even if it means we're thrown in as a result), the team went to release a fleet of gravity-defying garbage one hour later. i can't understand the logic there.

the marketers argued that the balloons were 100% biodegradable, but most people argued that "biodegradable" does not mean a pelican can eat it and miraculously not die. the whole thing was just bad press. i mean, the fact the game is a "fictional" story about north korea taking over the world is not even a good start. but to throw mock protests and 10,000 pieces of floating red trash into san francisco's world is absolutely stupid.

and, after all the negative attention, i never heard about the bridge protest. i scoured the internet and found nothing but a few locked flickr accounts that refused to show photos to unwelcome guests.

oh, and the ridiculous video below-- which goes against everything i enjoy seeing.

it seems i was nearly blown off the golden gate only to have my half of the event disappear entirely.

on the bright side, i've finally walked across the bridge. and on the more pleasant bright side, the $125 check came on today.