| Re: "The police need to chill out over the Red Mile," by Jon Langevin, Letters, April 27 — May 3, 2006.
As a resident of the "Red Mile" neighbourhood who endured the 2004 playoffs, I have a certain degree of appreciation for the current stance the police have taken in this regard. I’m all for full-scale celebration and community spirit, however, the playoffs went on periodically for two freakin’ months – two months of obnoxious horn honking and aggressive noise often lasting until 3 or 4 in the morning (they even partied when they lost!).
Sanctioned and organized events like the folk festival (four days long – shut down by 11 p.m.) and the Stampede (10 days long – shut down by midnight) have to adhere to noise level bylaws, and out-of-control drunkenness is, to varying degrees, dealt with. As a young woman attempting to go about the business of living in the 17th Avenue hood, I was regularly considered a target for all sorts of lewd and offensive spew from the loud and proud. In one instance, I was grabbed roughly by the shoulders and bellowed at (and for that one split second – and I hate to admit it – I got the fear). As the playoffs progressed and the scene degenerated, the celebrating appeared to be a reason for assholes to be even bigger assholes. The amount of trash in the streets was despicable, guys were urinating everywhere, it was like living in a riot zone.
An interesting observation – in contrast, as a participant in the marches protesting the G8 Summits and the World Petroleum Conference, fine (basically sober) folk were greeted by a police presence in full riot gear with tear gas at the ready. I was obliged to contemplate the possibility of a night in jail for participating in peaceful protests in the name of social justice. But hey, for hockey we can hijack a neighbourhood and subject it to massive amounts of drunken, obnoxious machismo.
I would never advocate militant policing. I do, however, think the police have a job to do. The job is keeping the peace.
P.S. Just the other day, a friend of mine had her windshield cracked on the Deerfoot by one of those proud little flags.
Cassandra Christie, Calgary
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