CANCUN CITY, MEXICO -- It's 1:30 pm and I'm so, so happy! We did it. We got through all their security, got right up next to the convention center, and blockaded the roads for three hours, completely snarling all the traffic in the hotel zone just as the delegates were out for their dinners. All those scattered, disparate kaleidoscope pieces shifted and shook down into the perfect, perfect pattern. And up until the moment we did it, I didn't believe we could pull it off.

Here's how we did it:

The day begins well, with the news that a small team has hung a huge banner that says "Que les vayan todos/WTO Go Home!" on a giant crane outside the conference center. They have been dancing naked three hundred feet up in the air, and the authorities just don't know what to do. I wake up feeling exhausted and sick, but the news cheers me up.

All day we are meeting, planning, and preparing. Over breakfast, Rodrigo and I make up a new Spanish verse to one of our chants.
"Somos el viento que sopla
Al imperio que colapsa."

"We are the wind that blows the Empire down." I'm still not sure if we have logistics or communications or a tactical plan, but at least we have a song.

The Pagan Cluster meets in the morning, practicing the song in the convergence space. We quickly firm up our logistics, and goes out to the park to do a ritual of protection and success, asking for the way to be opened and for a bit of fog around the eyes of the security personnel. The fog is necessary as we are all in our tourist garb around the convergence center all day. At home we've spent a good half hour advising Karla on just the right shorts to wear with her blouse, and Josh on what to do with his hair. I have this pale green pants suit that is truly the perfect outfit, it looks just like something a tourist would wear in the tropics to pretend she was having some revolutionary adventure in the jungle, but it actually has just the right pockets and roll-up sleeves and fit to be practical action garb. Come to think of it, I am having some revolutionary adventure in the jungle.

The logistics are complicated, and the communication system is cumbersome, and I won't tell you exactly what they are until after the action is over. But the basic plan is to make our way there in ones or twos or small groups, on public buses or taxis or with rented cars, and then converge at the action point at the agreed-upon time. Lisa and Juniper and I look respectable, but we also have Brush in our car and his best efforts at looking like a clean-cut tourist boy fall short of the mark. He's wearing some kind of dark brown pants that look as if he's slept too many nights in them, and a dirty brown shirt too heavy for the weather, and a string knit cap over his unwashed long hair, and altogether he looks like someone who lives in the woods. But we want him with us, because he's brilliant and kind and we like him, and because of his excellent tactical and scouting abilities.