Through the window of Agostini’s Italian in Kingston, just minutes from Parliament House, curious diners watched on as an unexpected spectacle started to develop on the street outside.
The usual parliamentary sitting week crowd had packed in for an obligatory midweek meal.
On the Wednesday menu: dinner and a show.
The undeniably patient staff at the East Hotel had no idea what was about to hit them, as media started to roll into the lobby just before 7pm.
WikiLeaks had announced on social media it was to be the venue for a press conference, less than two hours after the organisation’s founder, Julian Assange, was due to touch down in Canberra.
Media jostled for position in the “Crema Room” — a small meeting space off the hotel lobby. TV screens had been set up with QR codes, with WikiLeaks hoping for support for their expensive bid to secure Assange’s release.
Journalists, photographers and crews from international outlets also began to pile in, including many who had bolted down the Hume Highway from Sydney as it became clear Assange was flying directly from Saipan to his nation’s capital.
Some couldn’t hide their bemusement as they took in the somewhat haphazard setting they’d wandered into.
News started to trickle through that Assange’s private plane had landed just after 7:30pm — the same jet Taylor Swift had chartered to fly around Australia months earlier.
Numbers started to swell. Banners were unfurled at the front door of the East Hotel by supporters praising the man they see as a freedom-fighting hero — a view not necessarily shared by all.
Assange’s wife, Stella, his father, John Shipton, long-time legal counsel Jennifer Robinson and US lawyer Barry Pollack were whisked into the basement car park in a blacked-out minivan, bypassing the bulk of the media pack waiting for their triumphant arrival.
Almost as if someone had flicked a switch — suddenly, it was on.
The East Hotel lobby resembled something closer to a mosh pit, as more and more supporters and miscellaneous sticky-beakers crammed in.
The professional and courteous hotel concierge staff only raised their voice in an attempt at crowd control when some tried to use their front desk as a platform for a better vantage point.
Guests watched on from above, leaning on the atrium balustrades outside their suites as the madness developed below. Among them, MPs from across the political spectrum — Greens MP Max Chandler-Mather, former Liberal minister Melissa Price and Labor backbencher Rob Mitchell.
In the middle of the mosh was Greens senator Jordon Steele-John and the man he replaced in the upper house, Scott Ludlam.
Labor’s Josh Wilson and journalist-turned-independent MP Zoe Daniel watched on, having just finished dinner herself, with Nasser Mashni from the Australia Palestine Advocacy Network weaving his way through the masses.
The crowd was abuzz as supporters fed off each other’s nervous energy and unfounded rumours. Many seemed to think their man was going to appear in person, even though there was little to suggest that would be the case.
Press scrums are often robust environments, where words are rarely minced. But it’s safe to say there were more than a few expletives exchanged between camera crews and the masses as the pressure built.
When Stella Assange, Jennifer Robinson and US-based lawyer Barry Pollack emerged, the crowd surged again. People cheered, clapped and whooped.
The trio made their way across the lobby, the sea of people parting slowly as they attempted to get to the press conference forward-sizzled hours earlier on social media.
The temperature outside may have plummeted, but the heat inside the “Crema Room” was almost sub-tropical.
Jennifer Robinson started to speak but was quickly interrupted by shouting from the back of the room. Supporters of Assange were trying to force their way in, wanting the event to be a victory speech rather than a press conference.
The pushing and shoving continued throughout, to the disdain of those inside. Stella Assange was clearly emotionally and physically exhausted, and at times was battling to be heard.
One visiting journalist expressed her extreme displeasure at what was happening behind her with a blunt and forceful declaration — “stop touching me!”
The Assange-stans who made it into the room weren’t happy with the tone of some questions from the media, tutting and jeering in response to questions about the legacy of WikiLeaks and whether some of its publications had caused harm.
It was somewhat ironic, given their hero’s commitment to freedom of the press.
As the questions ended and the trio were whisked back to privacy, the cheering started again.
One local resident approached me outside.
“I saw it on the news and thought I’d wander over to watch. It’s remarkable this is happening here in Kingston!”
People felt like they’d just witnessed history, even if they hadn’t seen Julian Assange himself after his more-than-decade-long legal ordeal.
While the world’s eyes were trained on the East Hotel, the legendary watering hole next door, the Kingston Hotel, was heaving as New South Wales won game two of the State of Origin.
Most blissfully ignorant of the victory being claimed just across the road.