A couple of bogeys
left over from the golf journey
I was taken to task today by a couple of readers for not finishing the story about
me trying to smuggle a weapon onto the golf course in the form of my seemingly
harmless Swiss Army Knife. In a way, I am
glad it was pointed out to me (one of which was an English teacher no less) because it proves
that somebody actually pays attention to this.
Anyway, as you recall as I was about to enter the security gate in the morning, a very sweet older African American
lady doing triage told me I would not be able to take the knife through security
to the course because it was so dangerous (she really didn’t say the
latter, it’s just me). Instead, she kindly said,
here let me hold it for you, and when you leave this afternoon, just come back right
here and get it. She very carefully
showed me a little corner in her cabinet, and gently placed the weapon there. She was very apologetic for having to do
this, but it was the rule. And, as we all
know, rules is rules, especially when it comes to security.
Okay, so after a long day of golf, on the way out we had to pass
near the security gates again so I figured what the heck, I’ll give it a
shot. I walked over from the exit path
to the entrance gates and told a nice young man my story. He directed me to another agent, and I repeated
the story. Follow me, he says, and took me to the security office. The
door opened to reveal a uniformed, very stern looking lady eyeing me
suspiciously. Once again I repeated the
story, and she replied in “a tone”: “Sir! All
confiscated items have been disposed of”.
Visions of Bio Hazard suited men with long poles prodding my knife to
see if it would explode leaped to mind.
Well, I said, the nice lady at the gate placed it in her little cabinet
and said it would be there. Again the
back rose, the eyes narrowed and in a steely voice: “Sir, you were given incorrect information!
we DISPOSE of all CONFISCATED items”. I
figured my weapon was more “checked” than confiscated, but this point I was fearing
a cavity search if I pursued the matter any longer and thanked her for her
time, retreating out the door under her self satisfied gaze.
I must say this was the only blemish on all the volunteers
and people we encountered for the tournament; they were all almost the complete
opposite of security czar. So thank you nice elderly lady
at the gate for your consideration, and up yours lady in the office!
A fishy tale…
I also forgot to relate another piece of the story at Carraba’s. One of the items on the menu was a tilapia
dish of some sort. Seems like these days you can’t find
a menu without the little piscine on it. At any rate, my friend innocently (not
really) asked if the tilapia were local?
Why yes it is, said the server who was taking care of us. Well, not so fast. Tilapia is enjoying a boom in aquaculture and
is being farmed a lot of places. I did a
little internet poking, and although I can’t find the damn reference today, it
was to the effect that 98% of the Tilapia consumed in the US comes frozen from off shore. So I am very much in doubt that a little lad
in a straw hat and a bamboo pole caught the menu items for Carraba’s.
Okay, tomorrow back home issues. And for those you won’t (yet) have to be
DFD
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