I was in San Diego last week for a work trip. I invited my girlfriend, Gabby, to join me. We flew in a couple of days early to enjoy the city before the work thing started. On Sunday, we were tear-gassed.

Around 3pm, we arrived in La Jolla. We parked a bit up the hill from La Jolla Cove, a park on the water and a popular spot to watch sea lions and seals. As we entered the park, we noticed that the public bathroom had been cordoned off with yellow police tape. There were a few cops standing around and some people filming them. Gabby and I decided it would be better to move along. We didn't know what was going on and we didn't trust the cops, but there seemed to be enough people watching to hold them accountable. Besides, the sea lions were much more entertaining.

We walked along the cliffs, heading towards the park's other restroom, pausing frequently to look at the animals. One sea lion had just come out of the water and was trying to join the big cuddle pile on the beach, but he was soaking wet and no one wanted him next to them. Without towels or complex language, the sea lions had to resort to saying "arf-arf" and waving their flippers at the wet one. This commotion woke up some of the other sea lions, who joined in the chorus, causing further commotion.

"Aw, look," I said. "He has to sleep all alone. He has no friends."

"Just like you," Gabby said.

There were more sea lions and seals and cormorants and two octopuses in a tide pool and a squirrel that Gabby twice summoned from the bushes and the sun was lowering and the air was still and warm and soon I had forgotten all about the police activity.

About an hour and a half later, we started back towards the car. We were going to grab water and snacks and a towel to sit on so we could watch the sunset in the park. But when we got back near the first bathroom, we found that the path had been blocked off. The taped-off area had been extended five-fold. All the snorkelers and sunbathers had been escorted off the beach. There were now over twenty police cars and dozens of cops. A crowd of about 15 people had gathered where we were now on the path. More bystanders were watching from the opposite side of the building and also across the street from the park, behind where most of the cops were.

Six officers were behind the bathroom, to our right, positioned behind an SUV. One park ranger stood near us on the path. The rest of the force was on the street side, where they had blocked traffic and, I assume, towed parked cars out of their way. In each of the groups of cops, one had a rifle that he would alternately point at the bathroom or at the sky.

We learned from the crowd that a man with a knife had locked himself inside the bathroom. He had been in there for close to two hours.

Soon, the K9 division arrived. The barking dogs woke up the sea lions, who began barking back.

One group of cops ran into the bathroom and then, based on the sounds, knocked on the stall door a couple times, and then ran out. You can imagine how they waved their guns around and signalled to each other as if they were approaching Saddam Hussein's lair.

Operation Knock-knock deemed a failure, it was time to send in the SWAT team. These six elite officers in gas masks ran up to the side of the bathroom closest to us. They expanded their tactical ladder and positioned it against the wall. (N.B.: this was a very beachy restroom, consisting of two rows of eight stalls. There was a roof overhead, but it was separate from the stalls.) One cop climbed up the ladder and fired his weapon, which I now figure was a "PepperBall Launcher". He shot at least ten times into the stall. The team collapsed the ladder and hurried back to their defensive line.

Next, the cops flew a drone into the bathroom. And then flew the drone back out.

A couple minutes later, Gabby and two women behind us coughed in unison.

I thought.

We looked at each other and at the other women. "Did we just get tear-gassed?" someone said. I was coughing now too. Someone was sneezing. We all started walked away, coughing and covering our mouths. Squinting into the setting sun, I felt completely disoriented. An older woman jogged past us, these 20 people coughing and wheezing. Turn back, you're going to get tear-gassed, I wanted to say, but I could hardly speak. It felt like there was something stuck in my throat. I let out a couple hacky coughs and then threw up in the grass.

I felt mostly better after vomitting, but Gabby felt short of breath and her nose wouldn't stop running. We walked up the hill to the nearest gift shop and bought a water and Gatorade.

"Do you sell tissues?" Gabby asked. "We just got tear-gassed."

"No, no tissues," the clerk said. He offered her some paper towels. He explained that he had heard about the guy with the knife from other customers. They had returned their rented snorkel gear covered in sand. "Usually we ask them to wash it off, but they said the bathroom was closed," he said.

As we continued around the block towards our car, we passed a wine bar on the hillside with an outdoor patio overlooking the ocean. We had to stop. As dusk fell over La Jolla, we sipped our wine and texted our friends and family. To my mom, I wrote: "Gabby and I just got tear-gassed :/".

By the time we returned to our car, the police were gone and the bathroom was open again. I assume they eventually arrested the man with the (alleged) knife. I hope he's okay. I assume the San Diego police budget will be increased next year. I assume they'll buy more tactical ladders and tear gas canisters and rifles and drones. I assume they'll get away with much worse than causing minor respiratory distress to a group of people just trying to get back to their cars.

So, now and always at unanswered.blog, ACAB and

Some suggestions for how the cops could have arrested the man with the knife in the bathroom without tear-gassing anyone: