Summer 2015 I lived in my van in San Diego. I busked, street performance, in downtown San Diego; the Gaslamp Quarter, to better use my talents to entertain people, and feed myself.
One night while busking on the corner of 5th and Market- a brigade of bicycle cops approached me after I finished a song. I immediately took my phone out, they asked me and my guitarist, Judd, to leave, to move along.
Judd critically reminded them we were in a public space, out of the flow of traffic, and not obscuring it. One bicycle cop called his superior. We remained occupied for three minutes while the on site supervisor came to us- and my phone is recording the conversation.
He walked up to Judd, and he politely asked the other bike cops to leave. In private he told Judd and I to leave for 15 minutes, and to come back and busk; and he would make sure the bike cops wouldn’t hassle us again.
15 minutes later we busked, and I was able to pay my phone bill.
Judd and I were very privileged to have received that treatment. Other buskers did not, and their voices silenced.
“Freedom of Speech” can kiss my ass.