Yesterday morning: got myself up and out in time to do grocery shopping before swarming crowds of caffeinated consumers descended on local shops. Realized I'd finished with enough time to hop a bus and make the trip to a museum for its 10 o'clock opening, thought ia an excellent idea. Flew out of the flat, caught a bus, switched to a second bus, reached the museum just shy of 10. Discovered that so many people had made the same cunning plan that a line stretched from the museum entrance down the block. Decided to try it again another day, aimed myself toward la Calle de Alcalá, started walking. Found myself in front of el Círculo de Bellas Artes, saw that their sidewalk café had not yet been shut down for the cold season, tossed myself into a seat at a likely table. Ordered, pulled out morning paper, began sipping espresso.
El Círculo de Bellas Artes is across from where Gran Vía joins la Calle de Alcalá -- plenty of passing vehicles, lots of pedestrian traffic. The seats are far enough removed from the street that automative noise and motion is not overwhelming, it's a fine place to pass some time.
Three or four pages into the paper, still swimming slowly toward full consciousness. Immersed enough in reading, eating, drinking that traffic hooha seemed far, far away. Until the sounds of a siren, of engines going at high rpm, of screeching tires caught my attention, combined with the motion of a small red car leaping into my peripheral view. I looked up just as a police van in pursuit of the car streaked into view, overtook the smaller vehicle, collided with it -- on purpose or because car driver lost control, couldn't tell. The car did a screeching 180 and came to a halt (driver's door now visible), the police van pulled up maybe 15 feet along. The doors of the van flew open and a cop leaped out of either one, the near cop pulling out a gun, running at the vehicle, yelling at the driver to freeze, show his hands. The cop stopped a few feet away, pistol aimed at the driver, the second cop arrived at the passenger side door. The driver didn't respond to the shouted instructions, seemed to be hunched over, doing something. The cops pulled at the doors, found they were locked. The near cop shattered the driver's side window with his arm, backed off again, gun aimed directly at driver, yelling at him, while the other cop peered into the vehicle, face showing tense concern about... anything that might be a threat -- weapons, a bomb. The driver finally turned to face the near cop, I saw he had the look of the western stereotype of a fundamentalist Muslim -- hair cut short, a full beard, clothes of a loose, middle-eastern cut. He called out something, finally held his hands out the window so all could see he was unarmed. The near cop jerked the driver's door open, the cop on the far side of the car finally managed to get the passenger's door open. They forced the driver out the passenger's side and to the ground, cuffing him.
By this time, sirens were approaching from various directions, other police vans appeared, two or three motorcycle cops skidded up. Traffic had come to a dead stop in all directions, some agentes began to get it moving again, directing vehicles around the scene. Two or three cops cleaned up broken glass and other debris from the pavement. The rest clustered around the individual on the ground. He was spirited into a van that took off, the tense energy of the scene began to dissipate as the scene was cleaned up and normal city life slowly, slowly reasserted.
It's impossible to know what produced this happening, impossible to make assumptions of any kind about it. A family of four sat at the table next to me, two 30-something parents with two small daughters. Both girls appeared nervous, shaky in the wake of the event, and I can understand why. It happened so suddenly, with so much intensity and clear potential for ugly, ugly turns. I watched, overwhelmed with it all, completely forgetting to pull out camera until the most intense parts of it had come and gone, until I realized I was barely breathing, straightened up, drew in air.
A strange, intense, not at all typical Saturday morning in Madrid.
España, te amo
rws 11:05 AM [+]
Comments:
and you -- back from.... wherever the hell you went when you announced your retirement from scribbling haikus. great to see you passing through. :)
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