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Starbucks ruined the party by caving in earlier in the week, pledging to have the Fair Trade coffee beans stocked and ready for sale by the end of the year. What did that mean for the "Roast Starbucks" campaign? "It transformed from a protest to a celebration," said Kevin Danaher, part of the group's Global Democracy Project. But the several-dozen demonstrators who showed up, mostly multipierced, self-consciously scruffy youths, weren't satisfied. Though Starbucks had announced the agreement days before, many still carried large burlap sacks to symbolize oppressed coffee farmers.

"I'm proud to say I've never bought a cup of Starbucks coffee in my life," said student leader Chris Crews. The company's Fair Trade coffee concession left him unimpressed, but Crews felt it was "a psychological victory. It's good whenever the people feel they can have an effect." But Crews couldn't see a day when Starbucks could reform its way into his coffee budget. "I believe that corporations are fundamentally flawed and built on exploiting the people," he said.

He wasn't alone. Another demonstrator decried the company's "union busting tactics," and protest leaders had already fashioned their next demand. As it turned out, Starbucks had only conceded to selling the Fair Trade coffee beans for bulk purchase. Its brewed coffee, the stuff pouring hot from the taps of the ubiquitous shops, was still a rich brew of coffee-plantation misery. "We're going to force Starbucks to sell brewed Fair Trade coffee," said Global Exchange director Medea Benjamin. "So at the end of the year, when you go into Starbucks [for Fair Trade coffee] you can say 'I want it brewed! I'm not leaving until I have it brewed!'"

The brewed vs. bean controversy notwithstanding, Global Exchange and its followers had bigger fish to fry. Another, less-repentant corporate villain awaited them, so the band hoisted its hand-lettered signs, tumbling into the street in search of the Gap, their patron demon of sweatshops. Global Exchange's Deborah James led the merry band across the streets, much to the irritation of motorists. "Be nice to the police," she shouted through a megaphone. "They're letting us have a march without a permit. Just don't block traffic."

At that point, the police and the protesters were engaged in friendly banter more than threats. One officer even congratulated them on their Starbucks victory. "I'll feel better about it the next time I purchase coffee," he said. Other officers on foot, on motorcycles and in squad cars seemed grateful to have something to do. The biker cops provided an escort for the protesters, allowing them a pass on traffic laws, as long as they stayed orderly.

But once the crowd reached the Gap, the mood started to shift. After blocks of singing about the exploitation of workers, children, youth, gays, women and other sundry oppressed peoples, demonstrators arrived at the Gap to find that the authorities were no longer up for chatting. As soon as the gathering stopped in front of the store, the police formed a protective barrier around its walls, first circling with their bikes, then dismounting to form a human shield, the nonspeaking, humorlessly stone-faced kind. A poster of those crazy, multiculti dancing Gap kids stared out over the shoulders of their unsmiling guards.

Given the circumstances, the police presence seemed a bit excessive. No one had thrown a rock, or even suggested that such an outburst was forthcoming. Before the police formed their barricade, the store seemed in danger of little more having its windowed smudged by press and protester fingerprints. But in the wake of last November's protests in Seattle, Gap had taken local police advisories to heart and closed for the day anyway.

"I guess we know who the cops are here to protect!" shouted an aging hipster. The grumbling grew, but nothing came of it. After a few speeches about sweatshops in the Philippines and some mangled freedom songs, the protest moved toward its ultimate target, the National Press Club where Michael Moore, director general of the World Trade Organization, was speaking. "It's just a few blocks away," one leader told the crowd. The assembly paused briefly to heckle and have its picture taken at another Starbucks and strode obliviously past the World Bank building.

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