Farmers Equal Liberty?
I attended the three Slow Food Nation panel discussions on Saturday, August 30th. I had a ticket for the first panel on Climate Change. An amazing panel.
But…. Who I really wanted to see more than anyone else was Wendell Berry. He is my hero of the land, and his writing is what sparked my interest in agriculture in the first. I hoped to snag an extra ticket somehow by asking around. Before the first panel commenced, I struck up a conversation with the woman next to me. “Are you going to the panel at 4?”
“Yes, I am.”
“I tried to get a ticket, but it was all sold out.”
“It did sell out fast. I only got a ticket because my husband is on the panel.”
“Who is your husband?”
“Wendell Berry.”
How funny. I just so happened to sit right next to Tanya Berry. I tried to conceal my excitement.
“Really? He’s the reason I want to see the talk.”
We chatted a bit, and she said, “Well, if you really wanna see it, you could just hang out in the theatre.”
I thought, Hey, good idea.
After the Climate Change panel, I went to the woman’s bathroom in the basement, where I discovered a lounge area adjacent. Some people were inside, eating lunch. I sat and wrote and thought until the next panel was about to begin. Since the bathroom was not past the ticket takers, I walked right into the second panel, on Edible Education, undetected.
Now, all I had to do was sit through this panel and hide until Wendell’s panel began. It had been so easy the first time. I would just do the same thing as before. Meanwhile, the only consumables I had brought in my bag were an Odwalla bar and a canteen of coffee— and I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I was getting quite hungry as the second panel wore on.
At the end of the panel, the discussion mediator was handed a note and announced, “Everyone, please clear the theatre between panels, and if you have a ticket, then you may reenter. We need to clear the theatre between panels. Thank you.”
Oh no, had I been detected, so close to the start of Wendell’s panel?! By now, I had to see Wendell Berry speak. I had already starved myself for some hours.
I planned to exit near the stage, thereby avoiding the crowd in the aisles, and go in through another set of double doors near the bathroom stairs. Oh no! They have those doors closed now! I shoved my jacket into my bag and returned to the door I had exited through. I said to the girl manning the door, “I left my jacket in there. Can I go back in?” She nods. Whew. That was close.
I go back in, make my way through the crowd and down to the basement to the women’s bathroom. I wait for the line to die down and then enter a stall. Should I stay in the stall until the panel starts? No, that’s silly. I was my hands and sit back in the lounge. A photographer readies his equipment, but other than him, I’m the only one there. I sit behind a pillar, hoping to be unnoticed, writing in my notebook just to make it appear as if I’m press, as if I’m supposed to be there. Eek. There’s a girl who is wearing a staff apron. Will she question me? I am so jacked up on caffeine that I am paranoid!
Paradoxical, isn’t it, that I have to starve myself in order to attend the talks about slow food.
I will wait until the bathroom gets busy again. That will tell me if they have begun to let people in.
What if they are now checking tickets right at the theatre entrance? What will I say? I left my jacket? Then what? An escort?
Thirteen minutes and still undiscovered. Soon now. Soon. I also want a good seat. Is that too much to ask? What if the staff can smell my guilt?
Guilty, guilty conscience.
I overhear some ladies walking into the restroom, “Do you think people who had a ticket for the panel beforehand just stayed in here to see this one?… Oh, no. That’s right. They couldn’t. They had to leave.”
Ten minutes til showtime. Here I go.
I get a comment card from the lady with the basket. She asks me if I have a seat yet.
“No.”
“Ok, well, it’s all full down here, but you can go up to the balcony. The stairs are…”
“Oh, I’ll just go down to the stairs by the stage.”
“Ok”
I sit in a good box seat on the side balcony. I’m in!
Wendell Berry is the bomb!
It was so worth it.
