Vote for Larry by Janet Tashjian Page B

you’re acting like such a jerk.” She stood up and hurried back to her tent. When I called out to her, she didn’t turn around, just flipped me the bird over her head.
    Hopefully, no paparazzi were huddled in a nearby tent looking for exclusives.
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    The next morning’s sunrise trumpeted a crystal-clear day. A perfect day to hang outside and listen to music.
    If anyone were there to play it.
    Janine pulled me away from a group of kids discussing their activist programs back in Nevada.

    â€œYou’re not going to believe this,” she said. “No one’s here.”
    I pointed to the crowd of 400,000 just waking up.
    â€œJohn Mayer, Foo Fighters, The White Stripes—none of them are coming.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI talked to Sheryl Crow this morning. They all got faxes from campaign headquarters saying the festival was canceled.”
    â€œFrom our campaign headquarters?”
    â€œThat’s what I’m trying to tell you!” She handed me a piece of paper. “I had her fax me what she received. She was bummed. She really wanted to play.”
    Sure enough, the note was from our office, printed on official letterhead. And signed by me.
    â€œWho—”
    â€œThe fax went out yesterday morning. There were tons of people going in and out of the office. It could have been anyone.”
    â€œWhat did Simon say?”
    â€œI can’t believe how well he’s taking it. I’m a wreck. What are we going to do?” She moved nervously back and forth, like a four-year-old who had to use the bathroom.
    â€œWho is here?”
    â€œA few people who came in eariy—Norah Jones and Sting. I called Bono. He’s leaving now.”
    â€œWhy don’t we start at nine as scheduled, see if they’ll do longer sets?”

    â€œThat’ll buy us an hour or two—then what? We don’t want a Woodstock ’99 on our hands.”
    I looked around at the peaceful crowd. “I doubt we’re going to have looting and rioting here.” Still, the thought of an atmosphere of chaos ratcheted up my fear twentyfold.
    Simon ran over waving his clipboard. “It’s a total and complete snafu.”
    I pulled my shirt over my head. “I refuse to believe that—refuse!”
    Janine kicked into gear. “How about New York artists? Can’t we fly people in?”
    â€œYeah, like we have Air Force One at our disposal,” Simon answered.
    â€œI’m trying to make the best of a bad situation here,” Janine said. “Avril Lavigne played in Nashua last night. That’s just a few hours away.”
    I stopped pacing. “Call Stacy in Manchester. Tell her to stand by.”
    Simon began punching numbers into his cell. “That’s a start, but this crowd is expecting more than just a few acts.”
    Janine looked up from her laptop. “Coldplay is in Worcester, Badly Drawn Boy’s in Portland—a!! we can do is ask, then make a relay with volunteers driving them up here.”
    â€œWe can get drivers from the Web site too,” Simon said. “Let’s go.”
    Before Janine left to make her calls, I lifted her a foot off the ground and thanked her.

    â€œNobody’s here yet. Let’s see what we can do.” As she ran to the tent, she yelled back over her shoulder. “Stall!”
    What?
    â€œGo up there,” she said. “Do something!”
    Was she serious?
    But an hour later, the crowd was getting antsy. When I spotted some guy knocking over trash cans, I bit back the fear and headed to the stage.
    â€œThanks for coming out today,” I said into the mike. “There have been lots of changes to the schedule—you’ll have to work with us on this one. But hey, we’re all about being spontaneous, right?”
    No reaction at all. Me trying to act cool? Big mistake.
    I decided to get right to it.

    Bill of “Yeah, Rights”
    Forget about the