Hey! That's not far out hippy talk! That's desecrating the post! This isn't some Shanghai Tiger Lily Movie! A bad morale moment in the Che Guevara Guerilla Training Manual! Although not dispirited, we were pretty burnt-out by sunrise; I think we had classes to study for; in any case, we decided to leave, probably five in the morning. We took a wrong turn into some scary-looking tenement street, with a group of wasted-looking denizens giving us a once-over look. Then we found an exit ramp and stood with our backpacks, hoping for a ride on the freeway. A police car pulled up. The cop on the passenger side looked us over, shot us the bird, and they sped off. Hey, what did I do! What part of weekend revolution don't you understand?
The grey exit ramp wound away from the monument tombstone town. Apparently, a little after we left, Nixon had police and airborne troops encircle the Mall and arrest 10,000 people. The day after I got home, my roommate wandered in, and told me he had been arrested, but seemed upbeat in a nervous chain-smoking way, because he got to spend time in a chain-link cage, getting to know some Hare Krishna.
My girlfriend was a little pissed about the steak. A buddy of mine defended me with a smile: "Hey, it's not every day you can overthrow the government between classes."- Looking back, I may have lost my love over a loin cut steak. Regrets?--I have a few. But the only thing I can say is that revolution is only a turnpike away, and one ivory tower removed, although for the youth of today, without bell bottoms, it could be difficult. Revolution and the promise of sex, drugs, and rock and roll--is a winning formula for attracting crowds. Salesmanship counts. Free concerts draws crowds; we did not have MTV, nor Dixie Chicks to be constitutionally circumcised and silenced by corporate airwaves. Today, kids watch concerts on iPods. Who am I to judge? Did War end? Is our Constitution alive? Did we leave a better life? Was Patrick Henry right? Were those flag cutters traitors?--or patriots--setting our flag free from disgraceful bondage? Or did the hippies' ideal of voluntarily living with little or nothing...translate into a world where people now have to live with nothing? Three weeks after I took the above picture, I had to report to my military draft office--Number Nine in the lottery. We all have choices. My advice to students: next time you have a choice between missing a few classes, or overthrowing the government, and there seems to be a weight on your shoulders or a flutter in your heart; well consider it could be some kind of flag that needs to be set free.