Oakland dispatch.

It's 4pm rush hour Friday. I am on the west coast for business. Having a little time to kill while my traveling companion was further east at a quilt store, I had just arrived at the Oakland 12th street BART station with an hour to kill, and settled in at a nearby Starbucks in a window seat. A manager returns to the store and announces, "Folks, there is a riot a few blocks down the street at the police station and they are tear gassing them, and they are expected to march this way. Last week when they did this they broke all the windows in this store. So you may want to move along now. BART just closed down the 12th street station as a precaution."

Apparently this is all continued protest at the recent police killing of an unarmed BART passenger, captured on many, many camera phones by BART users.

Well. I hustle my fanny out the Starbucks door. A dozen helicopters are circling RIGHT overhead. Cops are everywhere. Grungy Berkeley college-types (if this were 1989 they'd all be wearing safety pin anarchy symbols) are everywhere with video and still cameras setting up to tape the whole show. Sensible adults are RUNNING past me to get away from the area. My only thought is to get the hell away, and I know the next BART station is at 19th street. Now mind you, I don't know Oakland that well, but I can get a pretty good sense what direction NOT to move toward in the circumstances. Eventually, I find my way to the station and hop a packed, packed train out of town. By which time they announce the 12th street station is reopened, and the "event" has been quelled. Fifty minutes later, I'm dining not three blocks from where the "riot" took place. Oakland is a fun town.

So, a little scary, yes. But nothing any of you ought wet your panties over. Over and out.