PSNI Headquarters, Car Crashes, and Newly Ordained Terrorists

Our morning correspondant today is Tom Wintering:

Today got off to a comical start. The only people who woke for a 7:30 coffee run were Tom, Sonja, and Ms. Duarte. The three walked the several blocks to “The Roast,” a local coffee shop. What they found was a shop that was dark, abandoned and, as the sign in the window indicated, not open until at 8:30 a.m.; too late for them. They walked down the street looking for another coffee shop, thinking that surely not all coffee shops in Belfast opened that late. In America 8:30 a.m. is the middle of the business day, for goodness sake. After walking several more blocks and finding several more closed coffee shops, during which time it began to rain, they finally came across a small sandwich shop, of all places, that opened at 7:00 a.m. and sold coffee. Apparently, coffee at 7:30 is unheard of, but sandwiches, now they’re commonplace.

Upon Sonja and Tom’s arrival at the dorm at 8:25, they found it completely silent, absent of the usual hustle and bustle prior to our departure each day. No one had awakened the rest of the sleeping beauties who needed to be at the police station by 9:00 am. Ms. Duarte and Mr. Bizga ran down the hall pounding on doors and yelling that we had to leave straight away. The response was six zombies stumbling from their rooms wondering why they had been so rudely awakened from their slumber. Sonja, Ms. Duarte, Mr. Bizga, Raymond, and Tom quickly hustled down the stairs and into the rain, eager to get to the taxis while everyone else lagged behind, Ryan bringing up the rear with his eyes closed, feet dragging along, dreaming of the next time he could drink the seven to ten cups of coffee he normally consumes in the first hour of morning. The girls made a mad dash for Raymond’s BMW while the rest of us piled into taxis.

Shortly after arriving at the Castlereigh PSNI Headquarters, Ryan settled in a corner and promptly fell asleep. Several Ryan photo ops later, the group headed to the expansive control room. Here two giant screens filled the front wall with video from two of the over fifty CCTV cameras stationed around Belfast and the surrounding areas. The rest of the room has rows of computer-topped tables. Each group of three computers has a police controller reviewing the images from other CCTV cameras in the four large areas that the Castlereigh headquarters is in charge of. We were introduced to one of these police controllers who explained how the control center worked.

We then were ushered upstairs to a board room (which one police officer described as being like the star ship Enterprise) with a large oval table and flat screen televisions. This control room was used as a crisis center where the chiefs of the different departments would meet to decide how to proceed with large emergencies like riots. Here, the police controller told us that their knowledge of dealing with the “Troubles” has made them the premier police force in the world for dealing with dangerous environments, including Bosnia.

Returning to the lower control room, we spoke with individual controllers about their jobs. Jess, Sarah, and I asked the officer monitoring the east side of Belfast how he felt not being out on the streets. His simple reply: “It’s safer in here than out there.” This succinct response summed up quite a bit of what we have learned over the past several weeks: police officers, even after the end of the Troubles and the relative peace that now pervades the north of Ireland, would prefer not to deal with the sectarian violence that occurs, especially in these next few days leading up to the bonfires and parades that mark the victory of King William’s troops over James II at the Battle of the Boyne.

Next the Tactical Support Group (TSG) gave a brief explanation of what they do and then showed some of the weapons and tools that they use for dealing with hostile situations. We were given the opportunity to handle the weapons as well as getting to see their Land Rovers (not the luxury brand but the missile/bomb/fire/bullet proof four ton trucks) and the large vans that can hold several fully armored officers. At the other end of the garage we met with the self-proclaimed “sporty” Road Safety Police officers. Here Judy, one of the Road Safety officers, informed us that teenagers in the six northern counties of Ireland are not allowed to apply for their licenses until age 17. This statement was accompanied by a collective gasp as we could not imagine getting our licenses at any other age but 16, the legal age for drivers in Ohio. For the first year that they have their licenses, Northern Ireland teens are known as “learners” and have a special license that makes this apparent to other drivers. To progress to the next level, “restricted,” teens must earn a certain number of points. At this time teenagers are not allowed to drive above 45 miles per hour, a fact that was also accompanied by the gasps of our group’s speed demons. When we had sufficiently tested the Road Safety officers’ speed guns for accuracy (did you know that the average PSNI officer walks at a steady pace of 2 miles per hour?), we were led outside of the main entrance to meet with the ARU (Armed Response Unit).

These officers deal mostly with extreme situations such as those involving hostages. During this “show and tell,” one person in our group took a particular interest in the weapons, having to pick each one up and pretend to use it as well as picking up the other tools to come up with new and very interesting uses for each one. By the time the weapons had been put away, Sarah Murray had frightened the ARU officers so much with her intense fascination for their weapons that they made her the newest member of their Possible Terrorists group and nearly took her in for questioning. Mr. Bizga, a would- be secret agent, took the officers aside and convinced them to let her go.

One officer who particularly impressed the girls was Ian. Completely unafraid of guns or bombs, Ian is deathly afraid of roller coasters. His first experience was on Disney World’s “The Tower of Terror.” As the coaster began to fall, Ian grabbed hold of an American woman standing next to him and screamed with her the entire way down the tower. And so, with that the morning ended in the same way it had begun: comically.

PS- To Mrs. Murray, please note that your daughter has not actually been placed on a list of possible terrorists…just on one of potentially youth causing disturbance. No, just kidding.

This afternoons correspondent is Ryan Bellmore:

The afternoon offered respite from the preceding days’ commotion. Lunch was, per Mr. Bizga’s diet, fine, and class was, per Dr. Bryan’s disposition, bearable. Dr. Dominic Bryan, previously mentioned, discussed the political implications of public sectarian displays, namely those of the Orange Order. Today we looked at these displays in depth and explored the marching tradition in Northern Ireland. Using police concessions to inevitably rabblerousing parades, he explored the delicate balance between individual freedoms and public safety. Deep, I know. At class’s end, we gave him our attention, our best wishes, and our bear. Yes, we gave him a bear, built from “exploited children” (us) and modeled after a contraband picture of him from the office Burns Day party. He absolutely hated it and refused to sleep with it. Perforce by “hated” I mean, “adored” and “laughed at,” and by “refused to sleep with it” he means that he would lovingly place it in his bed and cuddle with it every night (what any respectable anthropology professor would do). We took pictures with the nutty Professor and “Dom’s Lost Childhood” whilst conspiring to mail him more consumerist paraphernalia, to accessorize his new found friend.

In the subsequent hours, Ms. Duarte illuminated the Dr. Hughes’ esoteric English lessons while Mr. Bizga made a simple dinner: stuffed peppers, champ, romaine and radicchio mixed salad with goat cheese and sun dried tomatoes, and French bread from a local boulangerie. It was a scene from Ireland in the 1840s, but with food. After dinner, Ms. Duarte disappointed the girls, telling them they should share clean up responsibility with the boys, forcing them from a job previously so enthusiastically taken. After much protesting, they agreed, and that is why I hide in my room writing this blog. After, we watched Love Actually, a movie we wanted to watch since reading the play Translations. Only Tom and I actually finished the movie, while everyone else actually filtered off, finishing journals or distracting those finishing journals. Salutations and Happy Fourth of July tomorrow!