the spies among us
The welcoming party for Indymedia reporters kicked off on Saturday at 5:00 PM, upstairs at a popular Denver restaurant. About ninety minutes into the event, an individual about the size and shape of a Denver Broncos linebacker suddenly wandered through, picking up one copy each of all the literature he could spot. The normal way to pick up literature, of course, is to visit the tables where it is freely available. But this fellow had his eye on a copy of an Indymedia info packet that belonged to someone i know, which she had left on her chair with other personal items. As he reached for the packet, he noticed me watching and drew back his hand. He asked if i knew where he could get one of these. I told him he could get it by registering as an Indymedia person at the registration table (which entails showing an ID to prove one's identity). His response was, "I'm not with Indymedia." My curiosity was immediately aroused; why is a non-Indymedia person at an Indymedia event, seeking one each of Indymedia literature and any other documents that he can scrounge?
I started considering his dress; he looked like a motorcycle tough, and although his appearance would have been convincing at any local biker bar, he didn't seem at all typical of the Indymedia crowd.
I watched him as he walked next to the registration table. He grabbed some flyers and stuffed them into his back pocket. I started unpacking my camera, but he suddenly disappeared down the steps. I followed, but he was nowhere to be seen. From the moment i noticed him to his abrupt disappearance took less than a minute.