From the minute I got there, it was rapid-fire introductions. My friend is an inveterate social butterfly (last year's man of the year, in fact), so it was "I need you to meet so-and-so. Come on." I actually have a feeling I met some major players in city government, but, unfortunately, I don't think I always knew it.

"This is Pamela Rice," it was all night, then, "the head of the vegan vegetarian society," my trailing epithet. Ouch. That went over big, particularly in a room filled with people for whom you could almost see the cholesterol exuding from their cheeks.

Right away, one guy gloated "just yesterday I had a $30 steak. You should have seen it."

"My condolences/sympathies," I replied. I couldn't help myself.

I later relayed the gloater's comment to a friend, and he compared it to one that might be made by a gentile in the midst of a group of Jewish people, bragging how he had just taken out some Jews lately.

Of course I got the, "So, you're a vegetarian because of health," as one person probed, taking me aside. "That's really only one of my reasons," I said. "Environment and ethical concerns are also important to me." I'm not sure the guy had ever heard the bit about the environment before.

Were we able to feed you? I was asked a couple of times. They were. The caterers had thankfully put themselves out with the vegan pasta and broccoli—My friend had had a hand in that, I understand. Everything else, however, dripped of saturated fat and animal protein. In any case, it was difficult for me to take in the realities of the buffet, particularly because I knew that much of it was probably going to be thrown away. What a waste.

As a staunch vegetarian (there's no other way of putting it), I have somehow figured out ways to buttress my life against what I consider the onslaught of meat-eater culture. I'll have to say, most close associates and friends of mine are vegetarian or vegan.

But my painful experience the other night, and it was painful, was made ever-much more so, because, despite my introduction as the head of a vegetarian organization, I knew I had nothing behind me in the way of organized numbers.

And the people at this event understand only one thing, political power. The room was not unlike a funnel full of billiard balls, each one jockeying for position—every move, significant, every nuance, scrutinized. Self-aggrandizement was the language-speak of the evening.

No, vegetarians have not organized politically—at least not in this town. Elsewhere around the country there are spotty efforts that spearhead healthy school lunches—not usually by name, "vegetarian," though that is the lifestyle that is encouraged.

Otherwise, there are lawsuits here and there brought by students or prison inmates who demand plant-based alternatives in their lunchrooms.

Washington D.C.-based Physicians Committee for Responsible Medicine (PCRM) has brought the USDA to court over conflicts of interest on the advisory panel that determines government nutrition guidelines. It has also brought lawsuits against that agency over its recommendation of three glasses of milk per day, despite the prevalence of lactose intolerance among non-Caucasians.

These are all great, but until vegetarians get into the streets, our issues—and there are scores and scores of them—won't get a chance in hell of being heard, let alone understood or, God forbid, implemented. Ultimately, until we vegetarians get politically organized, we will have to endure the constant ingnorance and the endless digs.

In the meantime, I have a suggestion: "Veggie Pride" marches throughout the country—starting right here in New York City.

What's a Veggie Pride march?

Click HERE to see a video of one that took place in its founding city, Paris, of all places, home of heavy cream. One look at this show and any self-respecting New York City vegetarian should say, "We need one of those in our town!