I think my dates are all fucked up, but I went to brunch this morning at my usual hang. by myself. I just needed some time by myself to sort things out and read the paper and relax. About an hour into my time there, I look up and who is walking in? Kelly Clarkston from the channel 11 news team. The same reporter who had interviewed me a few nights earlier. I think she was shocked to see me there so calm and peacefully minding my own business at such a mainstream place. ‘well if it isn't Mr. Fair Trade himself. Postponing the revolution to eat brunch of all things are you?! Isn’t this a bit risky? Aren't you worried that someone might see you in such a swank eatery? Mistake you for one of us...” “Revolutionaries do eat Kelly. And if I were you, I'd be more worried that someone might see you talking to one of the “evil-doer protestors.” Wouldn’t want to soil that perfectly contrived white bread American girl reputation would you.” “It certainly was an exciting week. What have you all got planned next? Where's the next battle? Republican national convention?” I laughed. “Funny you should say that. I guess you’ll just have to be on your toes and wait and see. But I'm glad we could be of some amusement to your viewers.” “Do you think that you all accomplished anything? Honestly?” “Well, look at this way. The talks ended when? Thursday? The old dinosaurs went their separate ways with a watered down agreement. And that was that. But your news team and many more from all over the world are still writing stories about the protests and the dire impact this will have on the world around us, and not the actual talks themselves, and here it is Sunday. So yeah I think we did something.” “Fair enough. It was good meeting you Fishy.” I stood up and we shook hands. “Enjoy your brunch. Good luck to you,” she said. “You too Kelly. Thanks for everything,” I said. And she walked off to her table.