WALL STREET: SUNDAY, OCTOBER 9I'm on the Staten Island Ferry, headed to Occupy Wall Street, squeezed among a huddled mass of yuppies from the New York Road Runners Club. Their unified stench is more offensive than any homeless vegan flatulence I sniffed at various Occupy camps, as is the 'tude on two post-debutante types who are debating how to hurtle through to TriBeCa. Stepping off the boat, one says, "I'd love to cool down and walk through Battery Park, but do you think those insane people will be there yelling at everyone?"
PHOTOS: "Scenes from Occupy Wall Street," by Ariel Shearer
Soon enough, aristocrats won't be able to avoid Occupy — in New York or anywhere else — as police continue cracking whips and growing small movements into major mobs. Zuccotti Park is now a settled shantytown, complete with its own classrooms, junkies, trash collectors, and daily broadsheet. The occupation continues to expand well outside of this home base, too, multiplying in spite of several hundred arrests, and spinning off offensives all across the city. Yesterday they occupied Washington Square Park due north for a rally and concert.
Bongo jam sessions still echoing between my ears, I take Monday off to spend time with family back in Queens. It's supposed to be a day of rest, writing, and grandma's meatballs, which I'm grubbing when a fellow reporter calls me from the Rose Kennedy Greenway, where this adventure began.
"Looks like you didn't need to go to Wall Street to see the action after all," he says. "A good source just told me that police are about to show up in riot gear over here — in a few hours, all eyes will be on Boston."
Follow Chris Faraone on Twitter @fara1.
