I was undeniably self-conscious. It’s hard not to feel redundant when picketing without a picket sign, but in for a penny, in for a pound. So off I went. As I reached the intersection, I looked around again and once again didn’t recognize anyone. There was a group of seven or eight fellows huddled by the stoplight, and I figured I’d mingle there. At least they all had picket signs, and I figured if I stood near them, it wouldn’t be as obvious that I didn’t. The last thing you want to look like at my age, after all, is a writers’ groupie. However, as I approached, the group all began to chant for reasons I can’t imagine, “We’re queer and we’re here.” While undeniably catchy, they’re probably not the words to put a chill in the heart of management. Still, they were enough to make me veer off at the last second.
After standing around for about 15 brain-numbing minutes, I was on the verge of taking off when some busybody handed me his sign. Soon, one of the picketers suggested we split up into two groups, half of us crossing to the south side of the street. Then every time the light turned red, each group would cross in the opposite direction. That at least gave us a sense of purpose beyond just looking as if we were picketing the Samuel French Book Store.
One young woman had been thoughtful enough to provide Trivia Pursuit cards. So I got to quiz myself for several street crossings. I only got two of the six questions right on the first card. But I kept exchanging cards with her, promising myself that I’d get to go home as soon as I got all six questions on a card answered correctly. That took another 20 minutes. When I handed that card back, she asked me if I wanted another. “No thanks,” I said, “I’ve nothing more to prove.”
Then I handed off my sign to a lady and I went home.
The nicest part of the experience was that the teamsters who drove past all honked their horns very loudly as a sign of solidarity, as did a great many civilians, who also gave us the two-finger V for Victory sign. But having been through all this many times before, I’m only too aware that after three or four months of TV re-runs, the same people will be giving us the one-finger salute. I understand that it’s not that they like the guys on the other side, guys like Sumner Redstone, Leslie Moonves and Rupert Murdoch, more than they like us, but those greedy so-and-so’s aren’t out there carrying picket signs or playing havoc with people’s viewing habits.
But for my part, the only really good thing about a WGA strike is that it serves to remind millions of Americans that Leno, Letterman and all the other talking heads on the tube don’t really make it up as they go along.