PulpLit.net

i g8, you g8, he she it g8s

Genf is in lockdown mode as the G8 summit is scheduled to start here (well, across the lake in Evian, but Genf is the nearest airport, locale with missions and international organizations, and biggest city) on Sunday. WHO is in bordering-on-panic mode, with security announcements going out every day. Rumor has it that our cluster in particular, and perhaps the entire Organization, is going to tell staff not to come in on Friday, as the International Migration Office is predicted to be under siege. Latest estimates put expected numbers of protesters at 200,000. Everyone else is getting out of the country.

Including me. I'm supposed to go to Istanbul this weekend for what promises to be a most delightful time of it, with Christinita from this end, and the velobed (there it is again, Jasonian) Amy Keith who is meeting me at 7 in the morning on Saturday from none other than Azerbaijan. This was a pre-planned event, notably not scheduled particularly well on my part. I am supposed to leave on Friday evening at 6pm, from Geneva, and am asking you politely to cross all fingers that I make it out before the reported oil fires are lit around the airport, sending black billows of smoke into the air and preventing anyone from coming or going. I am a little bitter to be missing this event; Steve is staying to "work on his thesis", and I have no doubts will join some of the protests. He, as well as resident skeptic Niels, thinks they're hyping everything just for effect. But I am not convinced. The German Army is coming in to back up the already tear-gas-happy Swiss, and all cash machines in the entire canton are going to be emptied of cash starting tomorrow. Lots of buildings downtown have started boarding up their windows.

On the other hand, all mentions of the summit seem to be missing from the media anywhere save Gen?ve, so perhaps it's all a bunch a malarky afterall. I'll be here Friday to check it out, unless I decide to bust a move on a train to Zurich, thereby ensuring my reunion with the Amy Keith. We shall see. I'll probably end up snoring the day away and catching my totally normal and un-special flight; Genf could do with a little drama. If the G8 doesn't provide it, I'm pleased every weekend til September is booked somewhere else.

Coming soon: Iceland in August!