Making a Stand, against The Man

This is a follow up of the FBI incident from last week. That's where I got in trouble with the FBI for taking pictures of ground hogs near their building. If you remember, I had my name taken, and put on The List.

Well, I made up my mind that I was going to take a stand. Nobody is going to tell me where I can, and can't take pictures. The FBI sits off in a corner, all by it's self. It's high on a hill right next to a Highway. There is a bridge that runs across the highway and it has a wide walkway. The bridge is a good 200 yards long and leads into a very cool neighborhood of old houses. It's a very artsy, liberal area with a large Hispanic population. Many of the old houses have been beautifully renovated by older couples. Yuppies are starting to move in on the action, buying up the premium locations along the cliff with the most spectacular views. It's still a very Liberal area, though. There are many yards that still have "Kerry for President" signs displayed. A couple of weeks ago, someone stuck a poster on the fence along the bridge that read "IMPEACH BUSCH".



On this fence on the bridge, there are metal panels, about 18 inches wide and four feet tall. They are spaced about 20-feet apart the entire length of the bridge. In 2002 a high school art teacher brought her students to the bridge and each one painted a panel. What a brave and defiant thing to do. She's probably languishing is some Turkish prison right now. I wonder how many of the students are now dodging bullets in Iraq. Join the Army Reserves! Get training! See the world! Get your legs blown off by a roadside bomb!

I'm surprised some Young Republican group hasn't made their way there with some white wash and some paint rollers. Before that happened, I was going to record their artistic, defiant expression. But, mainly, I was going to show The Man that NOBODY TELLS ME WHERE I CAN, AND CAN'T TAKE PICTURES!




I walked past the brown, ominous, FBI building with it's black wrought iron gate with my camera in my hand. I'm sure they watched me as I walked past. I go there almost daily to observe my colony of ground hogs which live in the grassy embankment that runs between the dark castle and the highway. It had one of those black bubbles that house a security camera on the wall. It reminded me of the Eye of Saurmen from Lord of the Rings. I could feel The Eye's gaze upon me.

I decided to start at the far end of the bridge and work my way back toward The Dark Castle. I took the a picture of the first panel. No problems. I was resolute in my endeavor. We had to show them they can't push around the man. This is still America and we still had certain rights and freedoms, even if our every move is watched and recorded. I took a few steps over to the next panel. Click. Captured.



Each picture I took, brought a little closer to The Compound. I could feel the eye watching me a little more intently now. I wondered, would The-man-in-the-black-car drive up and give me another stern talking to? Or would a van pull up to me from behind, a swat team pouring out with their weapons leveled. A hood put over my head as they quickly threw me into the back, before any witnesses saw, and took down to the deep, inner-reaches of the Castle.

Another few steps, click, and onto the next one.




I could feel the eye boring into me now. My apprehension was growing with each step, my breathing, getting shallower, my heart was beginning to quicken.

Another few steps, click, and onto the next one.



I had covered over half the distance across the bridge. I imagine most of the entire staff in the building was standing at the darkened windows staring out at me and wondering "Who is that lunatic? What is he trying to prove?"

"That I'M A MAN!" I thought to myself. My hands were noticeably shaking at this point. I was afraid the pictures would come out blury. Normally, I go out of my way to avoid confrontation. On my trip to Florida recently, there was a group of German teenagers outside our hotel room talking and laughing late in the night. I couldn't sleep. Did I go out to ask them be quite? No, I sent my girlfriend. And they were quite. Well, today I was making a stand.

Another few, shaky steps, click, and slowly onto the next one.




I was getting very close to the building now, just a few more panels to go. Any minute, I thought, the gates will open up and I would be pounced on. At the very least, The-man-in-the-black-car would drive up and give me a good ass chewing.

I could feel the cross-hairs of the sniper's rifle zeroed in on my forehead. One more panel left, right next to the Property. I lifted the camera. I felt that pressing the shutter button would unleash the sniper's bullet. In super slow motion, I could see my head thrown back from the impact. My arms strewn towards the heavens, my camera launched high into the air, spinning, the sun gleaming off it's metal finish. I fell onto my back with a thud, and lay on the cobble-stoned walk-way, staring up to the sky. Father, forgive them...



But the bullet never came. I stood there for a brief moment, I could not believe what I had just done. I turned and walked back toward my office, my knees still wobbling, but head held high.

Somewhere, within the building, The-man-behind-the-eye said to himself, "Yes, you move along little man, Mr. David Schrik, Social Security # 654-34-blah-blah, with a birth mark on your left cheek, an your silly little blog. Go on back to work. One of these days you are going to step out of line, and I AM GOING TO COME DOWN ON YOU WITH AN IRON FIST!"