For the meeting, I request that people dress patriotically.
Upon arrival at the reception area of Carrow' Restaurant-the Denny' of Northern California-I spy a blonde woman and a man with a receding hairline and a T-shirt emblazoned with the face of Ronald Reagan. They sit awkwardly, eyeing people as they enter. Luckily I've come prepared:
MY OUTFIT: American Flag bandana; patriotic red, white, and blue tracksuit top; T-shirt that says "We Love the USA!"
MY OBJECTIVE: As chapter president, to go completely mad with power
Adjusting my American flag bandana, I take a stab in the dark. "Are you here for my Protest Warrior meeting?"
"We are!' the man proclaims.
With two clenched fists, I cry out my mission statement: "It' time to show those liberals what America is all about!" When their lackluster reaction dies down, I turn to Hairline and address him man to man. "That T-shirt shirt is fantastic!" I coo, adding with a respectful nod, "You just might make a good Protest Warrior chapter vice president!"
I turn towards the blonde woman, who' decided (rather unpatriotically) to dress in unauthorized civilian clothes. "Didn't you read my email?" I bellow, reprimanding her for not following my Protest Warrior chapter president orders in front of the patrons of Carrow'. I briefly toy with the idea of seeing if I could make her drop and give me 10 pushups. She makes an unhappy face at me.
The hostess steers us towards a table where we make, rigid uncomfortable right-wing small talk. "The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph," I state, quoting Thomas Paine (certainly not for the last time tonight).
"Is this the Protest Warriors?" asks a man with glasses, who claims to be a schoolteacher, as the rest of my unit slowly files in.
"It is!" I bark. Then with abrupt anger, "And you're late!" I give him something to think about: "What if you were late for an Operation? That just won't do!" Like an authoritative dick, I lean far back in my chair, adding, "Pull up some table!"