The day started out promisingly enough, with a good number of angry youth pressing against a police blockade near the US Treasury. The activists were filled with piss and vinegar. Piss because the port-o-sans were such a long walk away, and vinegar because it is apparently the best defense against teargas. Some form of a scuffle ensued, and a canister or two of said chemical weapon was deployed. During the melee, an Associated Press photographer was given the smack down by one of DC's finest. This gave the protestors a focus. Several members of the media and the general crowd surrounded the nametag-less officer, insisting instantaneous justice. There is really nothing like the smell of teargas and mob rule in the morning.

The mass crowd made their way to the Ellipse, a nice patch of grass in front of the White House, to use the bathroom and listen to the Indigo Girls. It was along the path to the Ellipse that the first contact with all other forms of activists was made. Every ten feet or so, there was another impromptu table set up passing out literature about this cause or that, much like the ISO on College Walk, only magnified. There was the Amadou Diallo people, insisting on an end to police brutality, the Animal Liberation Front, [and] rich white people asking for both Communist and Socialist revolution, though separately. One can only assume that the Indigo Girls spoke for the Gay Rights movement. Some people wanted to free Tibet, while others would settle for freeing Mumia. We saw the sign reading "Flying Squirrels for Freedom," but we never did find the guy holding it, so its meaning is left a mystery.

After this barrage of causes, one could not help asking, "what was that about the IMF?" Luckily, there was a steady flow of prominent and obscure speakers on the main stage to educate the audience and implore them to either reform or abolish the World Bank. If only it were that simple. No one seemed to notice the futility of preaching to choir. Wouldn't it make more sense to voice these grievances to people who are not already on your side? But I'm nit-picking.

After a brief rest and some choice entertainment, the main activity of the day resumed. Yep, it was time for another parade. This one was the fabled "march" for which the day was given its name. If by "march" they mean a hefty and steady procession of socialists chanting innocuous rhymes, and by "on Washington" they mean up and down one particular street in DC, then that is exactly what is was. They marched long and hard, albeit in a circle, to an attentive audience of other protestors who had grown tired of marching and were taking a break.

This went on for an hour or two, and then it was back to Lilith Fair. More festive and decidedly non-protesting music poured from the stage, interrupted by a spirited speaker or two. The Fed team decided that this would be a good time to take a nap under a tree in front of the Red Cross headquarters. And nap we did. We saw our problem, and we addressed it. Now that's progress.

Then five o'clock rolled around, and it was time for some real demonstrating. Rested and refreshed, the gaggle of young people with too much time on their hands mobilized and marched up to the World Bank building, where they were met by a blockade of police in riot gear. And why were the cops waiting for them? Because the organizers had previously published every single move they were to make. To be fair, in attempt to make this illegal action at least partially legal, the element of surprise had to be sacrificed for permits.

Once assembled, the crowd began what is known as direct action, or civil disobedience, or basically sitting down to block traffic in an already closed-off street. Things were starting to look up for anyone hoping to catch a little action. The police had their clubs, pepper spray, and smoke bombs ready. The crowd was singing defiantly. Suddenly, the sixties had reared its ugly head. Things were looking grim for the well being of the fragile demonstrators. That is, until they decided to "negotiate" with the authorities. After a mere fifteen minutes of sitting in, the kids decided to give up and come back the next day, all the while proclaiming that "this is what democracy looks like." Funny, it looked more like a mess of children running scared at the threat of getting arrested. Basically, at the crucial moment, they choked.

To give credit where credit is due, most of protestors did come back the next day and a good number of them were arrested. And for what? The purpose of the event was to disrupt the IMF conference, and in this aim, they failed. The conference went on without much of a hitch. Since the demonstrators had so kindly furnished the authorities with information such as when they would be returning on Monday, security was able to work around them. The IMF delegates were shuttled into the building before dawn and more importantly before any of the protestors had assembled. In the end, the protest disrupted the working day of regular, everyday employees at other buildings in the area, most of whom were told to just stay home.