My Banff Corrsespondant Shows Up...in the Middle of a Melee!

Last week my friend Wendall went off to Banff to report on the future of Canadian television and found himself in the middle of a protest from a group of writers who felt television should concern itself with quality story telling rather than the interests of investors who risk their assets off so the industry can actually exist! People, please! Priorities!

Anyway, I haven't heard from him since that skirmish, until yesterday when he called from downtown Halifax on the pay-as-you-go cell phone, we chipped in on. He was unable to recall the missing five days, other than there were a lot of shrimp cocktails, Sambuca body shots and apparently he now has a development deal with a major U.K. broadcaster on a reality show about beavers.

I'll give you the ghist of his phone call. Yesterday was an interesting day in normally quiet Halifax.

Wendall:

"I'm downtown, apparently, where all hell has broken loose. I awoke on the curb, to find myself among a dozen protestors who were defending themselves against the Halifax Police. From what I can see, the protestors, all dressed in black, including stylish headcoverings and baklava's (ed. they tried to disguise themselves with greek pastry on their faces?), and identical vintage Doc Martin's, were peacefully walking down the street carrying a few garbage can lids, just for style, when a police officer approached on a bicycle and brazenly offended them by asking how their day was going.

The protestors felt cornered and defended themselves accordingly; luckily they were all geode fanatics and had some of the sparkly, seemingly unoffending pieces of Mother Nature on their person.

As usual, police overreacted and held up their hands in a "let's calm down" provocative manner. That's when I apparently lost conciousness.

When I awoke, one of the protestors was using me as a human shield as he attempted to re-decorate the Toronto-Dominion bank with light bulbs full of paint. (ed. Thank God! I really am sick of that green colour everywhere.)

The protestor, 'Grellum', defended his actions by saying his act of throwing paint at the outside of a building will "make those people trying to shove Atlantica down our throats to reconsider their options!" (ed. I know what you mean. I once saw some graffeti on a mail box that said "save our planet" and I didn't litter that day!)

I asked him what he had against "Atlantica" and said it was a tool for corporations to oppress the dis-advantaged.

As the pepper spray cried away from my face (ed. should have been wearing some sort of international pastry!), I asked him what "Atlantica" was. He looked at me like I called his sister a whore, then hit me in the knee with a can of organic coffee, while calling me a facist. Excellent point, I thought, as I crumbled to the ground.

Later in the Halifax PD lock-up, I had a chance to talk to several of the protestors. I wanted to know why they had travlled from Montreal, Toronto and Truro; what had raised their ire so much that they were willing to risk....well, just having their picture taken being arrested.

'Cohan', a radical protestant anarchist from Montreal said he had travelled by train, and all the hardships that comes with that, to add his voice against the concept of "Atlantica" which would reduce the minimum wage, (ed. But even in Nova Scotia isn't every business scrambling for workers offering unheard of wages for semi-skilled and un-skilled labour?), create a double teared (his pronounciation, not mine, *snicker*) health care system, and allow cloned vegetables to rule the streets.

I asked Joshua from Toronto why he had travelled to Halifax, other then the fact his airmiles were expiring soon, and he responded that he'd rather be here fighting the oppresive forces of "Atlantica" than going to school or volunteering in his community because it was "betterest" and "really cool". Also Becky hated oppressive regimes and she is totally hot with her pierecd things.

Confused, I asked Caleb from Cape Breton why he was here and his response was ' I likes to throw rocks at things, but like, if I'm in North Sydney throwing rocks at telephone poles, no one's goin' chase me. What the hell fun is dat!"

As the commissionairres gave us sandwiches, cold and on white bread not whole wheat, pigs!, I had to ask the question to my cellmates; what is "Atlantica", exactly? "

That's when I lost the feed.

Wendall, I'll make some phone calls and try and get you out of there. If only I could leave the apartment.