Happenstance at the FTAA Ministerial Preparatory Conference in Toronto, early April 2001

This is coming to you courtesy of an internet cafe; as I'm not technologically suave.

I knew the protest march for the April FTAA Ministerial Preparatory Conference was to be held in Toronto's Yorkville area. So I got there at 11a.m., only to realize that no one else was going to be there till closer to 5pm that day.

This realization dawned on me slowly, and only after a number of interesting events unfolded.

First, I wandered down a street and took a picture of the mounted police receiving their morning instructions. Upon noticing me they turned their horses inward and the commander lowered his voice. Boy, did that hurt my feelings, but I continued on.

Then I managed to inadvertently walk into their Briefing Hall. It was all their fault, mind you - they neglected to post a notice in Toronto newspapers alerting potential movie goers to the fact that they'd taken over the Cumberland theatre as a command centre of sorts, and that the theatre was off-limits for the day. Imagine inconveniencing innocent movie goers like this.

Becoming aware that a strange man was paying close attention to my left hand as I walked out, I gradually unrolled the health magazine I'd almost carried into the hall. This dispelled any little worries he might have about gray-haired women carrying pipe bombs into the movies with them.

As I rounded the next corner onto Bloor St my fascination grew as I began to appreciate all the preparatory work that had gone into this joint security operation. Not only had I suddenly acquired an extra 'shadow' following my own; but my attention was drawn to the additional hardships faced by 'the bag man' as he perched on the cold, concrete planter - with a 'wire' neatly planted in his right ear.

"Well", I said to myself, "It looks like I've got time on my hands before the protesters arrive. Maybe, during the interim, some of the extra manpower would like to practice their undercover skills. What the heck, in the name of national security I can give them a couple hours of my time and let them follow me around today, if the so choose. After all it certainly beats going back home and reading another Agatha Christie so early in the day."

So off I wandered into the university area for coffee, a visit to the campus art gallery and then back again with my 'new friends' into the Yorkville shopping area. They were very nice about being quiet in the galleries and not being too obvious standing on the street below. Though one man didn't like me suddenly spinging into view on the 2nd floor of a gallery window overlooking the lovely Cumberland gardens and streetscape. I think he mistook my avid gardener's interest in the xeriscaping behind him for indiscreet peering.

However, I only took advantage of a couple of photo opps as I walked around. This seemed to be expected of my so-called role and so I snapped the occasional picture of people (some with wires in their ears, others with cameras around their necks and others simply enjoying the sun). Besides, it was evident that some people were quite comfortable with their identities and didn't mind pictures.

Only once did I share my 'role' with anyone - a shopkeeper. And that was while discussing the presence of undercover men with their backpacks on, in the 'oldie goldies' store on Cumberland. As the storeowner and I discussed and watched them he loudly remarked how he'd appreciate them dropping by in such numbers if they'd only spend a little money now and again.

Well, soon it was 3pm and time for my favourite shushi bar (corner of Yorkville and Bay)where much to my delight I found a wonderful little window to look down onto the nicely manned roadblock. I soon realized that it was a key one, for it turned out to be the designated route for the dignitaries' 'tour' bus. I was just enjoying my miso when the big, glass-tinted 'tour bus' took a sharp turn off of Bay street, swept through the roadblock and headed west to the conference hotel. I was so surprised that I almost waved to these well dressed folks, but instead took another picture. A few black limos arrived about the same time and then the officers broke ranks and congratulated themselves on a job well done. (Given that there were no protesters to be seen, this may not have been the intelligence/security feat that they had imagined.)

Anyway, it wasn't until around 4 p.m., when a bigger sigh of relief occurred with the news, "The Unicorn has just cleared the airport". Or so said one little birdie to another as they walked into a nearby washroom.

From then on the day got a little less exciting for me as the protesters arrived and I was no longer of much interest: for obviously I was no threat to anyone. So I caught a few shots of the parade, spoke to people I recognized, bought some poetry and took note of the little man who came out of the south entrance of the Park Hyatt Hotel (not long after the 3 Robo Cops showed us all their new guns).

He was accompanied by a couple of bigger guys in uniform (others stood surreptitiously behind curtained windows above). He appeared to be a Commander-in-chief of sorts and was brave enough to come right down onto the street for his own 'take' on things. Once he'd radioed back that he wasn't worried about the way things were unfolding and they could basically ease up, I knew that my unofficial role for the day was over and it was time to go home. After all, I'd relieved a little of the tedium faced by the underactive agents; the protest was successfully winding up peacefully, and I now had a few memories to take home and savor as I read my next cozy mystery book.