#2 son just phoned. No, he didn't get arrested; he leaves that endeavor to his older brother.
#2 and Girlfriend are at a rock concert on Harriet Island, which is an island in the Mississippi right by downtown St. Paul. He reports that the security surrounding the RNC is awesome. There are Coast Guard boats zipping up and down the river just in case some terrorist disguises himself as a water skier with a hand-held grenade launcher in his trunks. There are bands of full-body-armored police roving the downtown streets carrying 3-foot nightsticks and tasers, pretty much everything except automatic weapons.
[aside] He and I noted a news item on the internet a couple months ago about how the St. Paul police department had purchased 2,000 tasers... just in case. [/aside]
Matthew offered to take a picture with his cell of the security but worried that he might die in hail of bullets if he did so. I decided not to instruct him in the ways of Kinnearing; he woud almost certainly lose his brand-new Blackberry in the attempt.*
A couple nights ago he needed to drive to pick up some friends in downtown St. Paul. There is a perimeter set up surrounding the convention center and the several-many blocks around it; concrete barriers topped with razor wire blockade the streets. He couldn't quite figure out how to get to his destination, so he parked and approached the perimeter on foot. There he asked a state trooper how to get to 3rd & Sibley; she pulled out a map and was very helpful and pleasant about the whole thing. While they were puzzling over the map, they were approached by a Secret Service agent, who asked Matthew what he was doing.
"I need to pick up some friends."
"Where are you trying to get to?"
"3rd & Sibley."
SS agent looked him full in the eye and said, without a trace of inflection, "I don't know where that is."
The whole thing struck #2 as pretty surreal. Me, too.
* Back in 2004 I accompanied his high school drama group on their trip to New York City. One of the attractions the group went to was the Statue of Liberty. There was what has become standard security as we boarded the ferry to Ellis and Liberty Islands: a march through the metal detector and wanding of anyone whose belt buckle, etc., set it off. One of the other adult chaperones was being wanded, we were all laughing at the incongruity of a high school group from rural Wisconsin being suspected of terrorist activities, and another chaperone took a photo of the first one being wanded. The second chaperone was promptly descended upon by security guards who whisked her away, questioned her, and confiscated her camera. Bam! There, I feel safer now, don't you?
