He hangs over the top, as those below begin to shake and rock the fence. It takes a mere five minutes to pull a 150-foot section down, and as demonstrators stomp upon the fence and begin to push into the security zone, the first of countless canisters of tear gas are tossed into the crowds. But the wind blows the gas back at the police, toward the Congress Center. Protesters lob snowballs, hockey pucks, and a stuffed Barney doll at the police. Inside the Congress Center and nearby hotels, staffers shut the ventilation systems to keep the gas out.
Police sit glued to TVs in an underground bistro, watching the battle.
The opening ceremonies begin one hour late. Venzuela's president Hugo Ch vez, a leader who arose from the ranks of the poor, stops to talk to reporters outside the Hilton. I'm very sorry about all the tear gas, it is too much, but I understand why they feel they must use it. But the meaning seems to change depending upon which side of the fence one stands. Ch vez's words, for instance, can be interpreted two ways.