There's always a little something going on there. Whether it's a bunch of local dudes and their pigeon friends hanging out, a drum circle, or even a mariachi band, it's an intersection unlike no other in a neighborhood that has one hell of a personality.
Last week I was deplaning off the 60 when I looked over across the street and saw a bunch of white tents. Hmmm. What have we here, I thought. Pilsen Fashion Week? Nah. An open air orgy? Maybe, it is May afterall. While I stood there and squinted at the sign hanging near the tent, a gentleman handed me a flyer explaining what was going on.
It was a hunger strike. Two women--Elvira Arellano and Flor Crisostomo--are on said strike until President Bush declares a moratorium on deportations. Geez, I thought, I should check this hunger strike out. There was a problem though.
I was really, really hungry. Starving actually.
Am I bad person? I wanted to go home and eat dinner and I figured they'd be around for awhile. Even though I was going out of town for a couple of days, I thought they weren't going anywhere because God knows the only moratorium Bush declared is one on intelligence, decency, and the hope that America will ever be respected again.
Well here it is a week later and I left the grocery store (no food, just laundry soap and some awesome $1 dryer sheets) and walked past the tents tonight. There was an NBC5 truck and a few people--everyone looked in reasonably good health. But I didn't stop.
Because I had no idea how one "checks out" a hunger strike.