I had decided to go to Chinatown, in Manhattan’s Lower East Side, after a friend of mine reminded me last week that the Chinese New Year was fast approaching. He lives in Queens but his parents are from China and, from a young age, he’s gone almost every year to Chinatown’s New Year celebrations, which basically span two weeks.
“I bet there’s a great story somewhere in there,” I thought to myself.
Then my friend began describing how on the first day of the New Year dance troupes draped in colorful dragon costumes parade around the neighborhood all day. Throngs of people crowd the streets to watch, while the dancers attempt to bring good luck to local stores and ward off evil spirits.
Ah hah! There’s the story!
“The festivities used to be really crazy when I was a kid,” my friend went on. “There were firecrackers going off all over the place. Imagine, entire streets just covered in smoke and firecracker papers. When Giuliani became mayor he really clamped down on that stuff, though.” ---Thanks Giuliani.
I had a plan: take out a camera from school, get good footage of the dancers and their costumes, then try interviewing storeowners, the dancers themselves, and bystanders. In the end it didn’t
work out. I got great footage -which I’ll soon post- but couldn’t get interviews.The Chinese community is pretty insular, so fat chance they’re gonna talk to some guy who just showed up to their neighborhood with a video camera, right? Add that to the language barrier. Most people I approached didn’t even seem to understand what I was asking.
Then I ran into the police. I was with my friend at the corner of Mott and Bayard Streets when I saw a couple police officers confiscating cotton candy from some Hispanic (central American looking) street vendors. Evidently, they lacked a permit (or something). From across the street, I began filming the cops.
One of the cops saw me and started walking my way. He wanted me to stop filming. "excuse me, do you mind, sir?"
Now, these cops were doing their job, and they didn’t seem to be treating the vendors unfairly. But if there’s one thing I learned from last semester’s Law and Mass Communication class, it’s that the First Amendment guarantees you the right, whether you’re a journalist or private citizen, to film anyone and anything in public. If you have a problem with that you can talk to Thomas Jefferson.
So, I told the guy I would not stop filming. He asked to see “some ID.”
This is where the press pass NYU gave me a few months ago comes in handy. You wanna intimidate me? What’s that saying Mark Twain came up with? Never pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel.
Unfortunately, I left the pass sitting on my dresser. So I took out my wallet, and unfurled it to the central translucent sleeve where I keep my New Jersey issued driver’s license. “Here’s my ID.” I should’ve shown the guy my Chilean ID. Have fun reading that Cédula.

“No, you gotta take it out of the sleeve,” he said. I took it out and gave it to him.
“Is there a problem, officer?”
“Yeah, you’re acting suspicious.” He emphasized the “spish” in suspicious. Then he walked over to the police van. He must have been absent the day they taught the First Amendment at the Police Academy. His partner, mind you, was still dealing with the cotton candy vendors.
He took out his pad, wrote my name, address, and license ID number and then passed the ID back to me. I guess he was satisfied. “Thank you,” he said.
“No problem, officer,” I responded with a contemptuous smile. That was that (if it happens again I’ll have the mental clarity to ask for his name as well).
My friend stood off to the side the entire time, probably just laughing. So what’s gonna happen now? Will I be barred from Chinatown? Will they start a file on me at some downtown precinct? Will I get a ticket?a summons?
In all likelihood, they probably won’t do anything. But if I do get something in the mail I’ll definitely contest it. That cop never had a leg to stand on. Ask Thomas Jefferson. Thank you First Amendment.
Oh, and I still got the footage.
