Oh, please. That is so emotional.
I'd chain myself to something heavy with a copy of The Republic. I would inevitably try to read it after becoming a zombie, and it's hard-to-follow dialogues and well thought out rhetoric would revive my intellect, making me the first zombie philosopher and the Zombie Messiah.
I would saunter through crowds of my mindless brethren, looking for a soapbox to stand on. I would climb up to the top of my chosen speaking point, megaphone in hand, and begin to speak to the shambling horde. My inspiring speeches would foster a glow in their dead hearts; a glow of compassion for humanity. They would wake up, seeing their condition and knowing one thing:
The mindless killing and cannibalism would stop.
The word would spread throughout the zombie hordes, and they would gather with me and join hands singing "Everybody Get Together," united in undeath. The notes of song would spread throughout the infected city, and survivors everywhere would hear. Somewhere, a man with a crowbar would crawl out of his air duct and peek out of a window. Somewhere, a survivalist with a large collection of weapons would unlock his or her door and look down the hallway, towards the source of the song. A homeless man would crawl out of his battle dumpster, a crying child would cheer up and look for the singers, and a survivor trying to drive out of town would slow down and listen.
Slowly, the last remnants of humanity would gather in with the zombies, and the living and unliving would be together in their celebration of love and altruism. I will have achieved something that was impossible before the outbreak. I will have made humanity greater than the sum of it's parts.