This Is a Bust by Ed Lin Page A

anthem. The crowd cheered, and when he was done, he saluted. Tourist cameras went off. The bugle boy led the scouts marching forward to make room for the next performers.
    I saw some commotion in the crowd — eight men with baseball caps pulled low over their faces jumped into the opening behind the scouts. They lined up and unrolled a huge banner as wide as the street that read:
    BURY CHIANG KAI SHEK / BURY CORRUPT KMT!!!
    A small part in English read:
    U.S. RECOGNIZE CHINA
    The immediate crowd re action was a mass contest to see who could hold their breath the longest. This brash display at a KMT event was shocking to everyone whether you agreed or not.
    The only sounds came from the tourists and the cops, who had no idea what was going on.
    â€œThey didn’t put a lot of thought into that banner, eh?” asked Peepshow, throwing an elbow into me.
    Suddenly six m en with their heads tied in red handkerchiefs charged out onto the street. Each held a deceptively thin bamboo pole that was strong enough to smash cinder blocks. The pole-bearers advanced on the men holding the banner. The Chinese people in the crowd took two steps back behind the tourists.
    â€œHey, it’s a kung-fu exhibition!” said Peepshow, crossing his arms. I grabbed his right elbow and yanked him forward with me.
    â€œListen, yo-yo! This fight is for real!” I yelled at him.
    I don’t know who hit first. The guys with the bamboo poles were awkward, and their weapons were soon grabbed away. Baseball caps and handkerchiefs were yanked off. Pretty soon, you couldn’t tell who was from which side, and bamboo poles were spanking anyone within reach.
    None of us were ready for a riot, least of all the merchants who had opened special sidewalk displays for the parade.
    â€œGrab anyone with a pole!” I yelled at Peepshow. I wrestled down a man who must have been twice as old as me and yanked the pole out of his hands. I was reaching back for my handcuffs when I saw a periscope rise out of the chaos and zero in on my face.
    â€œIt’s a Chinese cop!” said the periscope. A hand reached out from the crowd and grabbed the bamboo pole on the ground that I had just taken away.
    I twisted around and stepped on the hand. The man under me squirmed.
    â€œOuch!” said a female voice, and a woman tourist rolled forward onto the ground next to me. The periscope swung away, revealing a male tourist with a TV camera.
    â€œWhat t he hell are you doing!” the man tourist demanded  to know.
    â€œDon’t touch that pole!” I yelled at the woman tourist.
    â€œI just wanted to see what it was made of,” she moaned.
    â€œI’m going to report you!” threatened the man tourist. He swung his camera lens back at me. “I got your badge number and everything.”
    â€œKeep that shit out of my face!” I yelled at him. I heaved against the camera and felt him fall back. The man under me managed to scoot out and slipped into a sea of legs somewhere to the south. “Motherfucker!” I yelled to God.
    â€œI can’t believe you talk like that!” yelled the tourist woman. She was cradling her hand like it was a sick hamster.
    â€œGo fuck yourself!” I told her.
    â€”
    We managed to get six men into custody with no reports of serious injuries in the crowd. We weren’t sure who we had, and even though a few thousand Chinese had seen what had happened, no eyewitnesses would come into the house.
    We gave the men warnings for disturbing the peace. They all seemed to know English.
    â€œCan you believe it, those guys pushing for Red China?” asked Peepshow. He’d managed to get a bruise on his jaw. “Right when the Viet Cong are running all over. Those Red China protesters are right down there with Jane Fonda. They keep up at it, people will think they’re gooks.”
    â€œPeople already think they’re gooks,” I said.
    â€”
    I went home, took a