with a big colorful tattoo of a peacock running up and down her left arm, and a silver stud just above her right nostril. She had short brown hair with blonde streaks, and wore a tight-fitting green t-shirt with a black and white cow on the front. When Jerry talked to her the day before, he was impressed with how articulate and thoughtful she was. Sure, she looked a bit radical, but she had told Jerry how important it was for the vegetarian movement to reach the general public. “We need volunteers who are respectful and not too preachy,” she had said to him when he first inquired about helping the group. “We need to get our message across to people who have been eating animals their entire lives. Too many groups in our movement are busy preaching to the choir, and they don’t know how to talk to the average person on the street.”
Suzy had been with the Vegetarian Action Committee since graduating from college, and while she went into the grassroots nonprofit with great expectations for changing the world, she had no idea how difficult it would actually be to inspire people to give up their carnivorous ways. Meat-free since the age of fourteen, she believed that once people learned the horrible truth about factory farming, the conversion would be easy. And she was convinced that she was the ideal person to carry the message to the masses. But she quickly found that people couldn’t wrap their heads around the concept of life without meat. Despite handing out graphic photos and descriptions of animal suffering — chickens in tiny battery cages, calves hauled away from their mothers to become veal, pigs in gestation crates so small they can’t turn around — they weren’t enough to alter people’s eating habits. Not only did throwing information at people not work, it often turned them away.
Recruiting volunteers was a major part of Suzy’s role at the Vegetarian Action Committee, and that, too, was fraught with challenge and disappointment. There were always several no-shows for events and protests, and ironically, the most reliable volunteers were the most radical and ill-suited for communicating with the public. Enter Bill Kyle — a master of what Suzy called “obnoxious antagonism.” With limited success, he was trying to become a professional comedian, working with a community improv group, and appearing at occasional open-mike nights. He had his clever moments, but he was more often inappropriate than amusing. Yet, to Suzy’s dismay, he showed up at virtually every Committee event, despite her pleas to Marty to have him banned from the group. Maybe this latest debacle would change Marty’s mind.
The officer who put Jerry and Suzy in the cruiser walked away without turning on the air conditioning, and the inside of the car was already hot from being parked in the midday sun. They sweat profusely, but were unable to wipe their brows, because of being cuffed behind their backs.
“Marty is going to shit a brick,” Suzy said looking through the window at one of the other cruisers. “We’ve never been arrested. Some stupid shit has happened, but not this. Kyle has always had a mouth. I shouldn’t have let him come here. He thinks he’s funny, but always ends up pissing people off.”
“Well, I don’t know if you guys have a lawyer, but my Uncle Mitch can probably help. He does mainly DWIs, but he’s gotten people out of jail for all kinds of stuff.”
“I guess I should call Marty. He’s the executive director of the Committee, but I don’t think he knows what to do.” Suzy turned to Jerry. “So your uncle is a lawyer?”
“Yeah, like I said, he handles mainly DWI cases, but when I was in high school, my buddy and I were protesting the Three Mile Island meltdown, and we got arrested for mouthing off to the cops. He had us out in less than two hours.”
Suzy nodded her head. “Well, that’s impressive. He might be a good option.”
“Sure,” Jerry said, glancing out at the darkening sky. A storm was approaching from the west.
The two sat in the car for several more minutes, incredulous that the police left them in the sweltering heat. Finally, the officer came back, turned on the car and the AC, and told them they’d be heading to the station in a few minutes. Someone had had an apparent heart attack, and that was the cause of the delay. “Once the ambulance is en route, I’ll be back and we’ll be on our way,” he said. “Sorry, folks.”
Jerry and Suzy sat quietly watching the line of ominous clouds and occasional flashes of lightening move closer. The fair’s pedestrian traffic had reversed direction because of the deteriorating weather; now most people were leaving instead of arriving.
Despite the prospect of going to jail, even if only for a couple of hours, Jerry was intrigued by the novelty and excitement of being in the back of a police cruiser in the company of a cute, edgy vegan organizer. It sure beat his weekday life of wearing a suit and tie, selling modems, multiplexers, and other Com-One computer networking products to other guys in suits and ties. For being his first job out of college, it wasn’t bad money, it got him out of ho-hum Cleveland and into the thriving metropolis of Washington, DC, and the corporate life boosted his ego; it felt good to have some disposable income, go to the beach on vacation, and take women on dates to nice restaurants. Last year, when he bought his first brand new car, a sporty five-speed Subaru coupe, one of the salesman in his office said, “This car is going to get you laid, buddy.” But after being a sales rep for five years, and not getting much additional sex as a result of the car, Jerry had gotten a little bored with his career.
As the skies opened up over the fairgrounds, the walking pedestrians became running pedestrians, heading quickly to the parking lot for shelter in their cars. Ground strokes of lightning cracked loudly through the air. A call came over the police radio that a couple of power lines had come down near the ferris wheel.
“Glad, we’re not out there,” Jerry said, “though now it’s getting a little chilly. I wish we could turn the AC down.”
“Yeah, I am surprised they left us here in the car for so long, but I guess they have their hands full. A storm. A heart attack. And, of course, us — us, the vegan brawlers,” Suzy said just before a bolt of lightning ripped behind them. “You know, I was wondering. What inspired you to get involved with us? Normally, getting volunteers is like pulling teeth. To get someone to approach us the way you did yesterday — that never happens.”
“Well, it’s kind of a long story. You’re really not going to believe it.”
“After watching Bill Kyle take on a biker, I’ll believe just about anything.”
“Well, I came here yesterday with my neighbor and her kids, and we spent a lot of time in the barns. The kids really loved the animals. And me, too. So, we’re petting this black and grey sheep — maybe a lamb — her name was Wilma, and she’s loving the attention. She was like somebody’s dog. So affectionate. And she was just shorn, so you could feel her warm skin. Really, a beautiful animal.”
“Sounds like you got attached.”
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