I'm wondering who'll go my bail, but customers are clapping and chanting too [View all]

It's a fast-food workers' action. And solidarity matters, so I show

Perhaps fifty or a hundred have come. Somebody hands me a sign. There are a variety: KFC, Burger King, McDonalds, this, that. In a few minutes, we begin walking

The man beside me introduces himself and tells me the young woman behind me is nervous

I turn to tell her she'll be all right. She doesn't seem convinced

We are commandeering a local franchise, I learn

Well, solidarity really does matter, so I enter too. An employee steps out of the way to let me pass. I thank him and take my place in line

"We can't survive on seven twenty-five!" folk chant

It's a nice in-your-face action. The poor manager repeatedly peeks from the kitchen door, always on her cellphone

"We can't survive on seven twenty-five!"

There's a bullhorn speech on the impossibility of living on fast-food service wages

"We can't survive on seven twenty-five!"

I figure the police will arrive any minute, and I'm starting to wonder who'll go my bail, but a number of customers are clapping and chanting with us

I'm backed up against a table at which an older woman is eating. Her friend appears with two sundaes, so I move to let her pass. I suspect she may not support us, but she thanks me kindly and sits: manners matter here in the South

"We can't survive on seven twenty-five!"

Police are nowhere in sight yet but we're leaving now

We head towards another franchise, a short distance away

As we arrive, police begin to appear, a car or two at a time, regularly, a few minutes apart, sirens wailing as they come, but the sirens quickly fall silent

There's one arrest. I'm not close enough to see what happened, but nobody seems terribly concerned: he has a lawyer, I hear

I guess we aren't going inside anywhere else uninvited today

So we stand on the sidewalk beside the road, winning some support from motorists, including the usual honks and waves. One driver shouts back, Can't survive on seven twenty-five!

Leaving later, I still count fifteen squad cars, but I know a few have already driven away,