V asks Bush to account for the crimes of his government

[Cue V4V soundtrack – Guns & Knives]
Washington DC, November 14, 2006. Lafayette Park, noon, on a clear and pleasant November day. Leaves are rustling on the trees and the ground. A phalanx of pigeons takes flight regularly with a great flap and whir of wings. The White House stands gleaming, nearby, just out of reach.

In the center lawn, behind the permanent nuke-ban protest camp, stand a group figures all dressed in black, wearing hats and a peculiar grinning mask. They stand, holding a huge banner, as if it might be read from across the street. They stand attentively, awaiting a response.

The breeze lifts the drape of my black cloak and sneaks under the mask a tiny bit. Thankfully, because it’s HOT under here. But it feels amazing, amazing to be here, representing 'The People', standing tall and fierce and questioning and embodying my hero, V, on of all days, my birthday. It feels AMAZING.

My journey across the city to the demonstration was wonderful. V4V soundtrack plays on my trusty ipod, and I stride purposefully down in to the underground. A train labeled “VIENNA” pulls up for me to board. (“There is no coincidence, Delia.”). I feel wierd and elegant in my big black Moroccan cloak. It is heavy, scratchy wool, with a big pointed hood and tassel, long and sweeping. I am carrying my mask and hat, a bit nervous, but excited. (Oh, damn it, I forgot my camera.)

When I come up from the Underground near Freedom Plaza, it feels thrilling to be sweeping through these grand architectural spaces, and drawing glances just for my cloak and my energy. I feel tall, strong, determined, and free. I am reaping all the benefit of my gym work and WW work over the past year; 67 pounds lighter, and regularly ‘running’ 2-3 miles at the gym, this city walk feels light and easy. I remember when 5 or 6 blocks would have been exhausting and when my feet and knees would have hurt terribly. Today, I walk strong and fast, leaves crackling and cape rustling. The DC government building, the Willard Hotel (where the term ‘lobbying’ was invented) the White House Visitors Center, and there, across the street, the heavily guarded Ellipse, once a spacious public park and now 9 parts armed camp, with check points and soldiers standing guard. “100% ID check” reads one sign. God Bless America.

I plan to take this lovely path between the White House and Treasury, and of course, it’s now closed for security. In the park I don my mask, and struggle with the hat. It won’t stay on; I can’t see out the eyeholes, what do I do with my glasses? Obviously this costume needs work. But I test my new performer’s courage by approaching a guard en masque. He says pleasantly “May I help you?” “I am looking for the 'We the People' gathering.” I answer, expecting to walk down the path. “You will have to go around.” He informs me, gesturing. “Go this way, turn left on 15th St.”I know, I know, thank you.” I wave my hand. (You need gloves, Ven, BLACK gloves. Right)

On my trip around the very large Treasury Building, I walk past a couple puzzling over their map. They start to ask me for help, then see my mask. They stop in mid word and stare. I am walking fast, but I stop and turn and unmask, asking, “Do you need some help?” After all, V was usually quite gracious to the innocent. They wanted to know what the big white building with the dome was. Um, The US Capitol? It amazes me that so many Americans don’t know what “the People’s House” looks like. “So, where is the White House?” she asks puzzled. I gesture over behind the trees. "It’s over here, and I am on my way there now, if you’d like to come along." We walk. They are late 20s, early 30’s black; they seem sweet, heart-landers, maybe. He says: “Hey we saw a bunch of people dressed like you over there. What’s up?” I explain. "Oh, yeah! " he grins, "you remember honey, that Vendetta movie." I get excited. I WONT be the only one there! There are Vs marching on the Bush White House!! YAY!! I speed up.

“The white House is small, easy to miss,"I explain, "especially now that it is so heavily guarded. After all it is a residence, it may be a grand house, but it is just that, a house. Not a temple. Not long ago, you could drive right by it in your car and snap a picture. Now, you can barely see it on foot.” We round the corner. “Oh, THAT?” she asks, “We were just here.” He says, mildly disappointed. I wish them well. I put on my mask.

On the plaza formerly known as Pennsylvania Avenue I am one of several Vs striding toward the center of Lafayette Square. Around the central fountain there are dozens and dozens of Vs milling. It is quite a marvelous sight. One wears a red rose on his brim. He appears to be the organizer. “You!” He points at me. “ Haven’t you got a hat? We need to all look the same as much as possible.” I pull out my battered witch hat and struggle to pull it on in a way it will stay put. The glasses have to go. He gets us in order and lines us up in formation, behind an enormous banner.

There are tall Vs and short ones. There are fat Vs and skinny ones. There are kids or Little People. There are women and men. Some have long black hair, some shorter, quite e few bad Halloween wigs, braids, graying hair. There are bowlers, witch hats, boater hats, cowboy hats, all black. There are short capes and long ones, silky capes and woolen ones.

There are over a hundred Vs.

Curious people ask what we are about. We are silent, in character, witnesses. We have nice black brochures to and out to anyone really interested, and the banner is a huge tax form with the message: “We the People: the right to petition; No Answer, No Taxes.” Several of the Vs hold signs that read, “Obey the Constitution!” More Vs arrive, and the organizer seems truly delighted. “Look, here come more.” He says, with gratefulness. He arranges us, coaches us in our bearing, adjusts our costumes, encourages us to help each other take turns, and lets us know where the nearest restrooms are.

We stand, wind ruffling our cloaks and hair. No messenger from the White House is forthcoming. I understand they have done this petitioning every two years for the 20 years they have been in existence, and have never had a reply. They have multiple lawsuits against the government for breaches of constitutional law in areas regarding waging of war and freedom of speech as well as tax. It seems a really good use of V, the fierce and intelligent challenger, who reveals abuses of power. This V is just a tad more civil; he asks nice for explanation, and waits patiently for the reply, which apparently never comes.

Someone walking through the park on their lunch hour yells out: “Hey! There was only one of you last week. What happened?” and our leader says quietly: “come back in six months.” Six months from November the 14th is April the 14th.
Isn’t that a coincidence!

:)