Hilarity at the Demo

So, this morning, my friend Karen calls me about a demonstration in the afternoon. A local union and some other groups are showing up to ask a local TV station to take a political ad for Wisconsin Supreme Court off the air. The ad, paid for by the conservative candidate, a man, basically ‘doctored’ the expression on the face of the progressive candidate, a woman. Interestingly, and to their credit, the conservative campaign admitted doing this, although the ad continues to run. Hence, the demo.

I ask Karen how cold it was going to be. Because it’s one thing to go for a good hearty walk when it’s cold and it’s another to stand still while speakers keep a death grip on the mic so they can say everything they rehearsed that morning in the shower and more.

I was iffy about going but then decided to go at the very last minute, actually when we drove by on our way home from a meeting and saw the demo forming up. What the heck, we thought, pulling the car into a parking spot that magically opened right in front of the TV station.

As it happens, I had a protest sign in my trunk, so I gave it to my friend Karen and then stood off to the side. I clapped and cheered and did all the things that one does as an ‘extra’ at a demo and then when the leader said we were going to go into the TV station to deliver a letter of protest about the TV ad, I kept my hands in my pockets and followed him up the stairs.

We got to the front door and several of us squeezed into the outer lobby. But when we walked toward the door to the actual lobby, we were stopped!

By the weather man!

That’s right the weather man stopped whatever forecasting he was doing and raced to the door to protect the station. He looked alarmed and beside himself, his arms outstretched like a guard on a basketball team.

“This is private property!” the weather man yelled. And I wondered if the impending ice storm was setting his nerves on edge. Then it got real tense because the big burly security guard came, and the weather man had to put his hands on his hips to show the severity of the situation.

“We just want to deliver our letter,” the group leader said. The big burly guy took the letter, then he said, ‘THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY!”

The five or six of us who’d made it into the outer lobby started to leave. When I walked past the big burly guy and the weather man, I smiled and said, “It’s all cool. We’re not violent.” And the big burly guy kind of smiled but the weather man was still shaking his head.

Oh man, a hard rain’s gonna fall.