How to Survive A Riot and Rock the G20 Summit

The day felt ominous as I drove into town to see firsthand what this international summit would do to my hometown. I had never driven past the neighborhoods of my life and parked at my college knowing that in a few minutes I would be surrounded by the most powerful leaders of the world and thousands of protesters, some armed with pooh bombs and water guns filled with urine, poised for confrontation. I hoped my investigative journey would be excrement free. As I discovered, things could get so much worse.

I arrived a loner, critical of both protestors and leaders. I wasn’t after any kind of useful message, only an interesting experience. I was going to get an early start to my day but then realized most of the protesters probably wouldn’t be awake before noon. Just kidding radical friends of mine. I figured things would heat up closer to the president’s arrival, so I parked my car and began hoofing it into town as Obama exited his plane at Pittsburgh International.

I decided to operate under an alias, KB4. The name sounded subversive and radical enough; although the initials stood for Kenjamin Bradford IV, epitome of the privileged establishment.

Flashing, emergency lights and militaristic personnel greeted me at every turn. Camouflage Humvees were parked where roadside vendors normally set up shop. An eerie silence filled the whole town, but swells of the storm beyond rose in shouts every few minutes. The warnings I’d heard the day before crept in. Things could get serious for anyone in the wrong place at the wrong time. I took a breath and moved for the commotion. This is it, I thought, into the belly of the beast.