British Invasion was a riot!
Literally. Here's the short version of the story:
8 friends and I trek halfway arcross the state to see the largest punk festival in the country.
Also showing up are a small group of neo-nazis who start a fight with a group of punks outside.
The nazis are smashed. Only a small percentage of punks at the show are involved or even know about the fight.
Cops show up in riot gear and use tear gas to disperse the crowd (without any warning to the thousands inside who weren't involved or even aware of the fight). After gassing the crowd, the cops then begin indescriminate beating and pepper spraying of anyone they can. Jenn is pepper sprayed. My friend Jeff is beaten. Once the punks flee to the parking lot, they are then shot at with rubber bullets and forced away from their cars and into the streets of San Bernadino. My friend Jason is shot. Punks then riot, destroying a Jack in the Box, several other buildings, several cop cars and sending four cops to the hospital. We come home.
So, here's a long-winded account of my British Invasion 2K6 experience.
Okay, so we got started out of San Jose a little later than planned on Friday morning. In my car was Jenn, Vanessa, Luke, Jeff, and myself. We met up with the Sacto kids (Marilyn, Jen, Jason and Sophie), and left my house around 11ish. PUNK ROCK ROAD TRIP!!! fun. We stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere Hwy 5 and bought these little toy guns that shot plastic bullets. Jenn shot me in the eye. It hurt. Later on, in the car, Luke shot me in the other eye. It hurt too. We were making pretty good time, until we hit L.A. At rush hour. On a Friday. Lame. Somewhere in L.A., Jenn and I realized that the tickets that we had foolishly purchased months ahead of time had foolishly been left on our coffee table in San Jose. Fuck. Lucky for us, Jeff saved the day and called Ticketmaster (something we never would have thought of) and got them to put our names on the will call list at the venue. So we didn't waste $70 after all. Yay!
We finally made it to Fontana, which is where our campsite was located, well after sunset. Fontana is one of those white bread, mountain-town type places full of slightly creepy hicks, and trying to find the campsite in the dark was neither easy nor fun. But, we eventually made it, and after stealing some wood from some local houses and a church, we had a nice warm fire going and several bottles of booze open. It was cold as fuck, but the alcohol helped us sleep...a little. When morning broke, the sun revealed the fact that there was snow in the hills all around us...and it wasn't that much higher than us. Yeah, it was really cold.
After milling around the campsite for a while, and doing our hair (oh, fucking punk rockers...so vain), we started to drive towards San Bernadino for the show. We stopped at a shoping center for beer/food, and had a little tailgate lunch. It was nice. We got stared at a lot.
So we found out on the way to the place that the show stated at 2 PM (we weren't sure until I was able to call my friend Dakota and verify). We ended up getting there at about 1:45ish or so and we parked near the front of the parking lot (there weren't many people there yet...I only mention this because it becomes important to the story later on). The Sacto kids decided to go to a record store, and so split and told us they'd meet us inside later. We parked the car and had a little tail gate party again. Some kids from Long Beach parked behind us, and we all shared some beers and hung out. They were cool kids...Bullett, Hector, and a bunch of others with names I don't remember. Someone had a set list, and we saw that the first bands that we wanted to see didn't go on until about 5:30 or 6, so we hung out in the parking lot drinking for a while.
After a couple hours, I got our tickets from the box office, and Vanessa and I went in while the others decided to be lameoids and stay in the parking lot a while longer. We met up with Dakota and Britani from Santa Cruz inside. There was a smaller stage outside where American bands were playing, and a huge stage inside the giant auditorium where all the British bands were playing. I met Mike Virus, who was angry that the beers they were selling inside cost $7 and tasted like they were watered down. We watched Resiliance play their set outside, and then watched Naked Aggression. Naked Aggression played outside just as it was getting dark, and they fucking ruled (as they usually do). The other kids I came with all came inside towards the end of NA's set. Bands kept playing...I saw Funeral Dress inside, and Final Conflict outside. At some point, we heard a rumor that a bunch of boneheads had gotten into the show (for those not in the know, a bonehead is a rasicst/neo-nazi skinhead). "Well, there's gonna be some fights, then" I thought. Oh well. Right.
So the big bands started playing inside...the Varukers were first. The Varukers fucking rule. I was quite stoked that I got to see them. Broken Bones was up next. For some reason, the sound system kept fucking up while they played, but they still played pretty well. I was pretty excited to see them, but I knew that I was gonna see them again at a smaller venue in Santa Cruz the next week, and I was really anxious at this point to see Vice Squad, the Adicts, and G.B.H. I was watching Broken Bones with all the Sacto kids. My S.J. friends were all outside, watching whatever band was out there, as far as I knew. Towards the end of Broken Bones' set, I felt the crowd shift behind me, and I turned to see the crowed parting from the middle of the room and rushing towards the doors on either side of the audiorium. Broken Bones stopped playing, and a few seconds later, the house lights came on. There was some smoke rising from the middle of the room. "I think there's a fire" I said to Marilyn. I thought, "Wait, it's a big audiotrium with lanolium floors...what cold be on fire in the middle? It's probably just a garbage can or something and people are rushing out for no reason" I thought to myself. So I decided to investigate, and walked towards the middle of the room to see where the smoke was coming from. Then my eyes started to burn in a most peculiar way. Shit. It was tear gas.
Begin the chaos.
I ran back up to the front and told my friends "I think there's tear gas in here." My eyes hadn't burned that intensly yet...I had just gotten a little bit of it. "What? Really?" "I think so" I said...then I made the brilliant decision to walk back towards the middle of the room to make sure. Then a cloud of the shit hit me. Yeah, I was sure. Holy fuck, I had no idea tear gas was that painful. My eyes immediatly shut and teared up, burning intensely. I tried to gasp for air, but my breath burned my mouth, throat, and lungs. It felt as if someone had poured gasoline into my eyes and down my throat, and then lit a match. I ran back to my friends, but by the time I got there, the gas had filled the room and they were experiencing it too. We grabbed on to eachoters' hands and tried to make our way to the overcrowded doors with our eyes shut and our shirts pulled up over our noses.
Now let me elaborate on something here. This auditorium was packed with about 4,000 punks of all ages. Most of the people there were teenagers, and there were even several young children inside the room. It was an enclosed area. There was absolutely no warning. There was no order to disperse. There was no explanation. The sound wasn't even cut off, and the band was in the middle of a song when it happened. The lights weren't turned on until after the tear gas was fired into the room. They fucked up. They're God-damned lucky as all hell that no one was killed in a stampede. The kids all kept a remarkably level head and filed quickly and safely out the doors.
My friends and I exited out the nearest doors which were to the back side of the building, on the opposite side from where the other stage, the main gate to the pavilion, and my S.J. friends were on. Once outside we were able to catch our breaths and let the tears clear our eyes. Some kids were doubled up on the floor, hacking and gasping for breath. A few were vomiting. Everyone had a stunned expression on their face. What the fuck had just happened? I still didn't even realize it was the cops. I hadn't even seen nor heard a single police officer at this point. I didn't even know they were there. I thought that this was possibly the work of some asshole prankster. "Who gets tear gas?" I asked outloud. "I think it was the cops" someone answered. A minute later, a police helicopter began circling very low above our heads, confirming their presence. Now confusion began to turn to outrage. The realization was setting in that we had just been gassed by the police without warning. And we didn't know why. We were pissed. We weren't sure yet if the show was actually over or not, so we stayed where we were rather than leaving to our cars. I called Luke on my cell phone, but could barely hear him. I told him that if shit was indeed over, that the car was the meeting-up place. We met up with Dakota and Britani, who were back stage and came out the same way.
We began questioning why this was happening. Someone said there was a fight. So they broke it up with tear gas? They're doing this because they hate us. They're fuckers. It wasn't a far strech of the imagination for us to assume there was no good reason. There probably wasn't a kid there who hadn't been fucked with by cops before just for being a punk. Shows get broken up by cops all the time. They're just not usually this big. They owe us money. Where's the nearest police station? Let's march on it!
A few minutes later, the helicopter began ordering us to our cars. "The concert is over. Return to your vehicles" it said over a loud speaker. So, realizing the show was officially now over, I told the Sacto and S.C. kids that I was going to the car to find the S.J. kids, and that I'd call them if anything happened. On my way around the building and to the parking lot, I passed by two squad cars that were completely smashed up. Every window was shattered, the hoods and roof were smashed in, the lights kicked off, and the interiors ripped to shreds. Whoa. There was more going on than I knew. Good, though, I thought. They owe us. They deserve it. I took a few pictures, then walked towards the car.
Luke, Jenn, Vanessa and Jeff were all at the car waiting for me. Apparently, they were pretty worried that I wasn't there, and thought I might have been arrested. Jenn's eyes were red and swollen shut, and she told me she had been pepper sprayed in the face. "WHAT?! WHY?" Jeff had also been clubbed with police batons. Apparantly, kids who were trying to get out of the venue on the other side were met by riot police swinging batons and spraying pepper. They had to tear down a chain-link fence to escape, as police had blocked off the only gate out. Police were giving them the order to disperse, but then beating them when they tried to get to the only exit. Some of the punks began to fight back, and the police were forced to retreat accross the parking lot, leaving two cars behind for punks to destroy. I tried to call Marilyn's cell phone, but the call didn't go through. So Jeff and I started to walk towards the other side of the building, where they were. We were stopped by a cop in riot gear by the smashed cars who told us to go back the other way. "What are we supposed to do? We came with our friends, we can't leave without them!" I argued. "I don't care. Go back that way!" was the answer. Jeff and I looked at eachother while I contemplated running around and past the cop. But just then the Sacto kids came around the corner towards us. They saw the smashed up cop cars and stopped to pose for pictures next to them. Just then, a squadron of riot police came marching towards them in tight formation. We all walked back to our car, which was luckily near the front of the lot. As the riot cops began to march past us, several yards away, the Sacto kids decided it was time to get to their car. We decided to get out of the immediate area as quickly as possible and meet up at whatever restaurant we could find. They left, and a minute later we heard a series of popping noises. The cops were firing non-leathal rounds. It was a war zone. We got inside the car and pulled out, but immediately got stuck in the long line of cars trying to exit. Then I got a phone call from Marilyn who was franticly crying, "Jason's been shot! A fucking rubber bullet! They shot him in the back! They're fucking shooting everyone who's not in a car!"
We made it out of the parking lot, and drove several blocks away to a Dennys. The Dennys was full of other punks, exchanging stories and eating dinner. We put our names on the list, and Luke and Jeff walked to the hotel next door where they knew someone that had a room. We were still trying to figure out a place to stay, since we didn't think camping while Jenn had pepper spray in her hair and face would be a good idea. We needed to find a shower.
At the Dennys we got the full story of what had happened. Apparently, a group of nazi boneheads had started picking fights with punks outside. Now, not only are punks violently anti-racist and anti-fascist, but this group especially was not one to put up with nazis chanting "white power". It was in Southern California, and a large percentage of the punks and skinheads there were Mexican. Apparently, as the two groups got more riled up, security tried to prevent a brawl by putting the nazis behind a baricade. The nazis, instead of leaving at this point, started laughing at the punks and skins, and gave them straight-arm salutes. So, the punks and skins pushed security to the side, knocked over the baricades, and attacked the nazis, sending them to the ground and then stomping on their heads. They smashed the fuckers up pretty good. A couple of the kids who were telling me about it told me that at least two of the Nazis were dead (after reading the press afterwards, I appears this wasn't the case, but that's how badly they were beaten). Security broke up the fight with fire extinguishers and got what was left of the nazis out of there. The crowd was pretty riled up at this point and started chanting "Fuck White Power." About 20 minutes later, police showed up in riot gear and tried to get the crowd to disperse. The punks started chanting "Fuck the police" and some apparantly threw plactic cups at the cops. That's when the tear gas began to fly. Now, this all happened outside, with a relatively small group of punks. The vast majority of people were inside, and like me, totally oblivious to any of this. It wasn't until well after we were attacked with gas, pepper spray and rubber bullets that we learned about any of this. 90% the punks there (and there were thousands) who had by this time been violently forced from the pavillion and into the streets must have been in the same boat.
So Luke and Jeff returned, and told us that there were hundreds of punks in the hotel, and it was basically one big party inside. We could have gone over there, but we were pretty sure that if there were that many punks there, the cops would be there soon enough. So we weighed other options. While we were eating, I started making phone calls. Dakota and Britani were still stuck at the pavilion, but said they would try to get to the Dennys. The Sacto kids were on their way to the police station to file a complaint. We didn't know where it was, so we waited for them to call back. Britani called her mom and asked if it was okay if we took sanctuary at her house, which was about a half-hour away. It was okay, so that's what we planned to do. At some point while we were eating, the manager of the Denny's locked the doors. She told us that rioters had destroyed a Jack n' the Box down the street, that a cop car was on fire outside, and for her employees' safety they were closing up. We didn't blame her. We were okay to stay and finish eating, though, which we did. As we were paying the bill, we looked outside to see riot cops slowly entering the parking lot. All of them had beanbag guns that looked like shotguns. One of them pointed through the window at me and motioned for us to get out. I held my finger up as if to say "just a sec," as I was trying to pay the bill and the girls were in the bathroom. We watched through the windows as squads of police decended on the hotel with all the punks in it. Good thing we didn't go there. Just as the girls were coming out of the bathroom, several cops entered the Dennys and ordered everyone to get out. One of the cops was bleeding from the forhead and had scrapes and bruises on his cheeks and chin.
We got to our car and tried to meet up with Dakota and Britani, who were at a Yum Yum Donuts a few blocks away. Trying to get anywhere at this point was a fucking mess, though. Streets were blocked off by cop cars, flashing lights and road flares were everywhere, and in every direction we looked, windows were smashed and buildings were graffitied. The streets were empty except for squads of heavily-armed riot cops running this way, and groups of renegade punks running that way. It was surreal...like some sort of futuristic, post-apoctalyptic punk rock dystopia. We finally made our way to the Yum Yums and met up with Dakota and Britani. We got a call from the Sacto kids that they had found the police station, but they weren't let in. They were told through an intercom that they couldn't complain, since they were at an "unlawful assembly." When they told the intercom that they had been shot with rubber bullets, the intercom told them that "To our knowledge, all that was fired were tear gas canisters. Now go away." So they were heading back to the campsite. We went to Britani's family's house, which was in a nice, quiet neighborhood in Corona.
Jenn was able to take a shower there and finally wash all the shit off her face. She felt immediately better. Britani's mom was incredibly kind and took in this group of haggard, smelly, beaten punks and treated us like we were her own children. I'm extremely grateful for her. As we sat in the family room watching TV, a Chips Ahoy comercial came on, featuring claymation punk rockers merrily dancing down the street sining, "Punky Chips Ahoy, Oi! Oi! Oi!" A cop (claymation monkey in a "Bobby" uniform) stops them, exclaiming "NO! Not Punky Chips Ahoy...Chunky Chips Ahoy!" And then they all laugh together. We all stared at it in silence. What the fuck? It was the first time we had seen that commercial...what perfect timing. We started off the day freezing our asses off in the woods. By afternoon, we were in the midst of thousands of punks (the largest gathering of punks I had been in) from all over the country, watching some of the biggest, most influential punk bands off all time on stage. Next thing we knew, we were running from tear gas, batons, pepper spray, and rubber bullets as angry kids were stomping on Nazis' heads, smashing cop cars, and violently clashing with pissed-off riot police. We were then escaping from a strange city in the midst of a full scale punk riot. Now, at the evening's end, we were sitting on white sofas in an upper-middle class neighborhood, sipping kool-aid, watching as singing, smiling corporate charicatures of punk rockers try to sell us cookies on TV. What a strange, strange day.
The next morning, we returned to the campsite just as the Sacto kids were packing up. We packed up our stuff and began the long drive home. We stopped to get news papers on the way, and read completely inaccurate and erroneous reports of what had happened. What more do you expect from the corporate media?
So, it was quite a weekend. Definately an experience, to say the least. I didn't get to see a few of the bands I really wanted to, but at least I have a story to tell for quite a while.
8 friends and I trek halfway arcross the state to see the largest punk festival in the country.
Also showing up are a small group of neo-nazis who start a fight with a group of punks outside.
The nazis are smashed. Only a small percentage of punks at the show are involved or even know about the fight.
Cops show up in riot gear and use tear gas to disperse the crowd (without any warning to the thousands inside who weren't involved or even aware of the fight). After gassing the crowd, the cops then begin indescriminate beating and pepper spraying of anyone they can. Jenn is pepper sprayed. My friend Jeff is beaten. Once the punks flee to the parking lot, they are then shot at with rubber bullets and forced away from their cars and into the streets of San Bernadino. My friend Jason is shot. Punks then riot, destroying a Jack in the Box, several other buildings, several cop cars and sending four cops to the hospital. We come home.
So, here's a long-winded account of my British Invasion 2K6 experience.
Okay, so we got started out of San Jose a little later than planned on Friday morning. In my car was Jenn, Vanessa, Luke, Jeff, and myself. We met up with the Sacto kids (Marilyn, Jen, Jason and Sophie), and left my house around 11ish. PUNK ROCK ROAD TRIP!!! fun. We stopped at a gas station in the middle of nowhere Hwy 5 and bought these little toy guns that shot plastic bullets. Jenn shot me in the eye. It hurt. Later on, in the car, Luke shot me in the other eye. It hurt too. We were making pretty good time, until we hit L.A. At rush hour. On a Friday. Lame. Somewhere in L.A., Jenn and I realized that the tickets that we had foolishly purchased months ahead of time had foolishly been left on our coffee table in San Jose. Fuck. Lucky for us, Jeff saved the day and called Ticketmaster (something we never would have thought of) and got them to put our names on the will call list at the venue. So we didn't waste $70 after all. Yay!
We finally made it to Fontana, which is where our campsite was located, well after sunset. Fontana is one of those white bread, mountain-town type places full of slightly creepy hicks, and trying to find the campsite in the dark was neither easy nor fun. But, we eventually made it, and after stealing some wood from some local houses and a church, we had a nice warm fire going and several bottles of booze open. It was cold as fuck, but the alcohol helped us sleep...a little. When morning broke, the sun revealed the fact that there was snow in the hills all around us...and it wasn't that much higher than us. Yeah, it was really cold.
After milling around the campsite for a while, and doing our hair (oh, fucking punk rockers...so vain), we started to drive towards San Bernadino for the show. We stopped at a shoping center for beer/food, and had a little tailgate lunch. It was nice. We got stared at a lot.
So we found out on the way to the place that the show stated at 2 PM (we weren't sure until I was able to call my friend Dakota and verify). We ended up getting there at about 1:45ish or so and we parked near the front of the parking lot (there weren't many people there yet...I only mention this because it becomes important to the story later on). The Sacto kids decided to go to a record store, and so split and told us they'd meet us inside later. We parked the car and had a little tail gate party again. Some kids from Long Beach parked behind us, and we all shared some beers and hung out. They were cool kids...Bullett, Hector, and a bunch of others with names I don't remember. Someone had a set list, and we saw that the first bands that we wanted to see didn't go on until about 5:30 or 6, so we hung out in the parking lot drinking for a while.
After a couple hours, I got our tickets from the box office, and Vanessa and I went in while the others decided to be lameoids and stay in the parking lot a while longer. We met up with Dakota and Britani from Santa Cruz inside. There was a smaller stage outside where American bands were playing, and a huge stage inside the giant auditorium where all the British bands were playing. I met Mike Virus, who was angry that the beers they were selling inside cost $7 and tasted like they were watered down. We watched Resiliance play their set outside, and then watched Naked Aggression. Naked Aggression played outside just as it was getting dark, and they fucking ruled (as they usually do). The other kids I came with all came inside towards the end of NA's set. Bands kept playing...I saw Funeral Dress inside, and Final Conflict outside. At some point, we heard a rumor that a bunch of boneheads had gotten into the show (for those not in the know, a bonehead is a rasicst/neo-nazi skinhead). "Well, there's gonna be some fights, then" I thought. Oh well. Right.
So the big bands started playing inside...the Varukers were first. The Varukers fucking rule. I was quite stoked that I got to see them. Broken Bones was up next. For some reason, the sound system kept fucking up while they played, but they still played pretty well. I was pretty excited to see them, but I knew that I was gonna see them again at a smaller venue in Santa Cruz the next week, and I was really anxious at this point to see Vice Squad, the Adicts, and G.B.H. I was watching Broken Bones with all the Sacto kids. My S.J. friends were all outside, watching whatever band was out there, as far as I knew. Towards the end of Broken Bones' set, I felt the crowd shift behind me, and I turned to see the crowed parting from the middle of the room and rushing towards the doors on either side of the audiorium. Broken Bones stopped playing, and a few seconds later, the house lights came on. There was some smoke rising from the middle of the room. "I think there's a fire" I said to Marilyn. I thought, "Wait, it's a big audiotrium with lanolium floors...what cold be on fire in the middle? It's probably just a garbage can or something and people are rushing out for no reason" I thought to myself. So I decided to investigate, and walked towards the middle of the room to see where the smoke was coming from. Then my eyes started to burn in a most peculiar way. Shit. It was tear gas.
Begin the chaos.
I ran back up to the front and told my friends "I think there's tear gas in here." My eyes hadn't burned that intensly yet...I had just gotten a little bit of it. "What? Really?" "I think so" I said...then I made the brilliant decision to walk back towards the middle of the room to make sure. Then a cloud of the shit hit me. Yeah, I was sure. Holy fuck, I had no idea tear gas was that painful. My eyes immediatly shut and teared up, burning intensely. I tried to gasp for air, but my breath burned my mouth, throat, and lungs. It felt as if someone had poured gasoline into my eyes and down my throat, and then lit a match. I ran back to my friends, but by the time I got there, the gas had filled the room and they were experiencing it too. We grabbed on to eachoters' hands and tried to make our way to the overcrowded doors with our eyes shut and our shirts pulled up over our noses.
Now let me elaborate on something here. This auditorium was packed with about 4,000 punks of all ages. Most of the people there were teenagers, and there were even several young children inside the room. It was an enclosed area. There was absolutely no warning. There was no order to disperse. There was no explanation. The sound wasn't even cut off, and the band was in the middle of a song when it happened. The lights weren't turned on until after the tear gas was fired into the room. They fucked up. They're God-damned lucky as all hell that no one was killed in a stampede. The kids all kept a remarkably level head and filed quickly and safely out the doors.
My friends and I exited out the nearest doors which were to the back side of the building, on the opposite side from where the other stage, the main gate to the pavilion, and my S.J. friends were on. Once outside we were able to catch our breaths and let the tears clear our eyes. Some kids were doubled up on the floor, hacking and gasping for breath. A few were vomiting. Everyone had a stunned expression on their face. What the fuck had just happened? I still didn't even realize it was the cops. I hadn't even seen nor heard a single police officer at this point. I didn't even know they were there. I thought that this was possibly the work of some asshole prankster. "Who gets tear gas?" I asked outloud. "I think it was the cops" someone answered. A minute later, a police helicopter began circling very low above our heads, confirming their presence. Now confusion began to turn to outrage. The realization was setting in that we had just been gassed by the police without warning. And we didn't know why. We were pissed. We weren't sure yet if the show was actually over or not, so we stayed where we were rather than leaving to our cars. I called Luke on my cell phone, but could barely hear him. I told him that if shit was indeed over, that the car was the meeting-up place. We met up with Dakota and Britani, who were back stage and came out the same way.
We began questioning why this was happening. Someone said there was a fight. So they broke it up with tear gas? They're doing this because they hate us. They're fuckers. It wasn't a far strech of the imagination for us to assume there was no good reason. There probably wasn't a kid there who hadn't been fucked with by cops before just for being a punk. Shows get broken up by cops all the time. They're just not usually this big. They owe us money. Where's the nearest police station? Let's march on it!
A few minutes later, the helicopter began ordering us to our cars. "The concert is over. Return to your vehicles" it said over a loud speaker. So, realizing the show was officially now over, I told the Sacto and S.C. kids that I was going to the car to find the S.J. kids, and that I'd call them if anything happened. On my way around the building and to the parking lot, I passed by two squad cars that were completely smashed up. Every window was shattered, the hoods and roof were smashed in, the lights kicked off, and the interiors ripped to shreds. Whoa. There was more going on than I knew. Good, though, I thought. They owe us. They deserve it. I took a few pictures, then walked towards the car.
Luke, Jenn, Vanessa and Jeff were all at the car waiting for me. Apparently, they were pretty worried that I wasn't there, and thought I might have been arrested. Jenn's eyes were red and swollen shut, and she told me she had been pepper sprayed in the face. "WHAT?! WHY?" Jeff had also been clubbed with police batons. Apparantly, kids who were trying to get out of the venue on the other side were met by riot police swinging batons and spraying pepper. They had to tear down a chain-link fence to escape, as police had blocked off the only gate out. Police were giving them the order to disperse, but then beating them when they tried to get to the only exit. Some of the punks began to fight back, and the police were forced to retreat accross the parking lot, leaving two cars behind for punks to destroy. I tried to call Marilyn's cell phone, but the call didn't go through. So Jeff and I started to walk towards the other side of the building, where they were. We were stopped by a cop in riot gear by the smashed cars who told us to go back the other way. "What are we supposed to do? We came with our friends, we can't leave without them!" I argued. "I don't care. Go back that way!" was the answer. Jeff and I looked at eachother while I contemplated running around and past the cop. But just then the Sacto kids came around the corner towards us. They saw the smashed up cop cars and stopped to pose for pictures next to them. Just then, a squadron of riot police came marching towards them in tight formation. We all walked back to our car, which was luckily near the front of the lot. As the riot cops began to march past us, several yards away, the Sacto kids decided it was time to get to their car. We decided to get out of the immediate area as quickly as possible and meet up at whatever restaurant we could find. They left, and a minute later we heard a series of popping noises. The cops were firing non-leathal rounds. It was a war zone. We got inside the car and pulled out, but immediately got stuck in the long line of cars trying to exit. Then I got a phone call from Marilyn who was franticly crying, "Jason's been shot! A fucking rubber bullet! They shot him in the back! They're fucking shooting everyone who's not in a car!"
We made it out of the parking lot, and drove several blocks away to a Dennys. The Dennys was full of other punks, exchanging stories and eating dinner. We put our names on the list, and Luke and Jeff walked to the hotel next door where they knew someone that had a room. We were still trying to figure out a place to stay, since we didn't think camping while Jenn had pepper spray in her hair and face would be a good idea. We needed to find a shower.
At the Dennys we got the full story of what had happened. Apparently, a group of nazi boneheads had started picking fights with punks outside. Now, not only are punks violently anti-racist and anti-fascist, but this group especially was not one to put up with nazis chanting "white power". It was in Southern California, and a large percentage of the punks and skinheads there were Mexican. Apparently, as the two groups got more riled up, security tried to prevent a brawl by putting the nazis behind a baricade. The nazis, instead of leaving at this point, started laughing at the punks and skins, and gave them straight-arm salutes. So, the punks and skins pushed security to the side, knocked over the baricades, and attacked the nazis, sending them to the ground and then stomping on their heads. They smashed the fuckers up pretty good. A couple of the kids who were telling me about it told me that at least two of the Nazis were dead (after reading the press afterwards, I appears this wasn't the case, but that's how badly they were beaten). Security broke up the fight with fire extinguishers and got what was left of the nazis out of there. The crowd was pretty riled up at this point and started chanting "Fuck White Power." About 20 minutes later, police showed up in riot gear and tried to get the crowd to disperse. The punks started chanting "Fuck the police" and some apparantly threw plactic cups at the cops. That's when the tear gas began to fly. Now, this all happened outside, with a relatively small group of punks. The vast majority of people were inside, and like me, totally oblivious to any of this. It wasn't until well after we were attacked with gas, pepper spray and rubber bullets that we learned about any of this. 90% the punks there (and there were thousands) who had by this time been violently forced from the pavillion and into the streets must have been in the same boat.
So Luke and Jeff returned, and told us that there were hundreds of punks in the hotel, and it was basically one big party inside. We could have gone over there, but we were pretty sure that if there were that many punks there, the cops would be there soon enough. So we weighed other options. While we were eating, I started making phone calls. Dakota and Britani were still stuck at the pavilion, but said they would try to get to the Dennys. The Sacto kids were on their way to the police station to file a complaint. We didn't know where it was, so we waited for them to call back. Britani called her mom and asked if it was okay if we took sanctuary at her house, which was about a half-hour away. It was okay, so that's what we planned to do. At some point while we were eating, the manager of the Denny's locked the doors. She told us that rioters had destroyed a Jack n' the Box down the street, that a cop car was on fire outside, and for her employees' safety they were closing up. We didn't blame her. We were okay to stay and finish eating, though, which we did. As we were paying the bill, we looked outside to see riot cops slowly entering the parking lot. All of them had beanbag guns that looked like shotguns. One of them pointed through the window at me and motioned for us to get out. I held my finger up as if to say "just a sec," as I was trying to pay the bill and the girls were in the bathroom. We watched through the windows as squads of police decended on the hotel with all the punks in it. Good thing we didn't go there. Just as the girls were coming out of the bathroom, several cops entered the Dennys and ordered everyone to get out. One of the cops was bleeding from the forhead and had scrapes and bruises on his cheeks and chin.
We got to our car and tried to meet up with Dakota and Britani, who were at a Yum Yum Donuts a few blocks away. Trying to get anywhere at this point was a fucking mess, though. Streets were blocked off by cop cars, flashing lights and road flares were everywhere, and in every direction we looked, windows were smashed and buildings were graffitied. The streets were empty except for squads of heavily-armed riot cops running this way, and groups of renegade punks running that way. It was surreal...like some sort of futuristic, post-apoctalyptic punk rock dystopia. We finally made our way to the Yum Yums and met up with Dakota and Britani. We got a call from the Sacto kids that they had found the police station, but they weren't let in. They were told through an intercom that they couldn't complain, since they were at an "unlawful assembly." When they told the intercom that they had been shot with rubber bullets, the intercom told them that "To our knowledge, all that was fired were tear gas canisters. Now go away." So they were heading back to the campsite. We went to Britani's family's house, which was in a nice, quiet neighborhood in Corona.
Jenn was able to take a shower there and finally wash all the shit off her face. She felt immediately better. Britani's mom was incredibly kind and took in this group of haggard, smelly, beaten punks and treated us like we were her own children. I'm extremely grateful for her. As we sat in the family room watching TV, a Chips Ahoy comercial came on, featuring claymation punk rockers merrily dancing down the street sining, "Punky Chips Ahoy, Oi! Oi! Oi!" A cop (claymation monkey in a "Bobby" uniform) stops them, exclaiming "NO! Not Punky Chips Ahoy...Chunky Chips Ahoy!" And then they all laugh together. We all stared at it in silence. What the fuck? It was the first time we had seen that commercial...what perfect timing. We started off the day freezing our asses off in the woods. By afternoon, we were in the midst of thousands of punks (the largest gathering of punks I had been in) from all over the country, watching some of the biggest, most influential punk bands off all time on stage. Next thing we knew, we were running from tear gas, batons, pepper spray, and rubber bullets as angry kids were stomping on Nazis' heads, smashing cop cars, and violently clashing with pissed-off riot police. We were then escaping from a strange city in the midst of a full scale punk riot. Now, at the evening's end, we were sitting on white sofas in an upper-middle class neighborhood, sipping kool-aid, watching as singing, smiling corporate charicatures of punk rockers try to sell us cookies on TV. What a strange, strange day.
The next morning, we returned to the campsite just as the Sacto kids were packing up. We packed up our stuff and began the long drive home. We stopped to get news papers on the way, and read completely inaccurate and erroneous reports of what had happened. What more do you expect from the corporate media?
So, it was quite a weekend. Definately an experience, to say the least. I didn't get to see a few of the bands I really wanted to, but at least I have a story to tell for quite a while.