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I've never been on any group bicycle ride before. I read about the Critical Mass ride in the L.A. Weekly. I was excited about the convention. I thought this would be a good way to view the convention without being stuck in a car. The article said to meet at the Central Library. I went by myself and didn't know anybody else on the ride.
I felt comfortable because we had a police escort. I'm a slow rider, so I was right next to the police the entire ride. They seemed friendly and like they were there just to make sure things went smoothly.
After a while the group stretched out, and it was clear we couldn't all get through the light at one time. As we approached the first red light, I stopped, but the police blocked traffic and encouraged us to ride through. They did this several times.
Then, as we were riding past Staples Center, the tone of the ride completely changed--there was a sudden urgency and busyness among the police. They split apart in formation and flanked the bicycle riders with newly arrived motorcycle police and squad cars. I pulled over and stopped between two parked cars, but one officer yelled at me to get back on my bike and get with the other riders. "You chose this ride, you can't leave it now!" he said.
There were police, sheriff's officers, the highway patrol. They formed a complete 360-degree circle around us. As we were trying to drop our bicycles, police approached us with batons drawn and were screaming at us to face the fence. It was clear to us we were herded to a place under the freeway where people wouldn't see us being arrested.
Someone asked what we were being arrested for, and he was told to "shut up--you'll know soon enough." When they ultimately wrote out our tickets, they had a lot of pow-wows about what they were going to charge us with. What they charged us with that night--felony reckless driving--was different than what we were arraigned on. In the end, I was charged with one misdemeanor--willfully and maliciously obstructing the flow of traffic, which was ironic as there was no traffic to obstruct because the police blocked the street for us and waved us through intersections.
We were held outside, cuffed, for three hours. Then they put us on sheriff's prison buses. At one point, on the bus, we found out that one of the riders was celebrating his 32nd birthday, so we all sang "Happy Birthday" to him, very loudly. That apparently angered the police. A sheriff boarded the bus and turned on the stereo full blast--I will never forget the song: "Two Tickets to Paradise." It was so other-worldly, like we had joined some police state where they had subtle forms of psychological terror to break us.
We were taken to Twin Towers for six hours of booking procedures and various forms of humiliation. They made us remove our clothing one piece at a time and do body contortions so they could get complete views of all body cavities. A couple of the women were put in solitary confinement. We were finally put in cells at 3 a.m. They woke us at 4 a.m. and gave us breakfast-none of us could eat, though--and told us we were going to court. Around 25 women were held together in a concrete cell for 18 hours that day. We finally got arraigned about 7 p.m. When they took us into court, they had us dressed in royal blue prison uniforms. Even though we had broken no laws, we were made to feel and look like criminals.
I was released on my own recognizance onto the street outside Twin Towers at 5 a.m. Thursday. I had been in custody since 6 p.m. Tuesday. I now have a court date: Sept. 1.
We agreed in jail that we'd meet Thursday at 8 p.m. to unwind, to talk about it. I wanted to go, but the meeting place was downtown and I was afraid. I don't want to be anywhere where the police might arrest me and hold me without any reason. Susanne Blossom is a law student at UCLA.
OTHER MEDIA COVERAGE
http://cnews.tribune.com/news/tribune/story/0,1235,tribune-elections2000-73552,00.html