SATURDAY MEMORY
February 2, 2025

Near midnight. In a bathroom at Dallas International Airport. My last moments in Washington, D.C., were spent visiting the Library of Congress. As souvenirs I had purchased facsimile copies of the Constitution and the Bill of Rights. They were in out-sized folders, too big for my suitcase, so I curried them with me.

As I was about the leave the bathroom, five guys came in. They spotted what I was carrying. They could see the large print on one of the folders: Bill of Rights. They started to hassle me. “You got no rights here fucker.” Each one said something similar. I tried to push my way through them, and they started to push me back and toward one of the stalls. Just as they were pushing me, a security guard came in. He ordered them out and they left.

He said, “You wanna live the night, my friend, you’d better toss those.”

I didn’t toss them, but I did turn the folder around so the words could not be seen. “I think I’ll be OK now,” I said.

He escorted me out and the toughs were nowhere to be seen.

I lived to tell the tale.