I was a little young for Woodstock and peace marches. But I always wanted to abandon my Goody Two-Shoes persona and stand up - or sit in - for something. Ghandi was my hero.

So when I saw a flier asking me to "Join the Fur Protest," I thought I had found my calling. I had read that a single fur coat takes the lives of dozens of itty-bitty minks. And in Charlotte, N.C., nobody needed a mink coat.

The protest was being put on by a group I'd never heard of before: People for the Ethnical Treatment of Animals. Perfect. Who could be more in favor of that than I?

So on a bright sunny morning, I arrived outside the South Park Mall in Charlotte, looking for my fellow anti-fur crusaders. I saw some young college-age women with cans of red paint (for posters, I was sure) and bunny costumes. Cute. I'd get to march with bunnies.

But before I could join the group, I heard some screeching and saw some half-clad rabbit-girls following a man sheepishly turning a leather coat inside-out and pleading with the PETA girls to let him by.

What the heck … ?

Uh-oh. So leather was "fur," too.

And the red paint wasn't for posters.

Looking down at my shoes, I decided to turn my leather Adidas around and run for my car.

Ethical Treatment of Animals. Please.

How about Ethical Treatment of People?