Dropping Allie (daughter) off at Dulles tonight for flight to Ghana, Leica around my neck (dork?) and looking for a couple of shots to finish up the roll. Luggage belt, snap, walk around, some people waiting, snap, more of luggage, snap--then, removing eye from viewfinder, I discover a gentleman standing close, certainly well within personal space, and he is wearing a badge of some type on his shoulder (no epaulettes fortunately, this wasn't South America, afterall). He asked if he could help me (rehetorical question, obviously), I offered up some identification (sensing the situtation, keen that I am), but alas, I had left my wallet in the car--trouble--and proffering something or other about stock photography, using up a roll, and a some other lame thing or two, quietly excused myself. He watched me shuffle off, a friend, also in uniform (did they have guns?) shoulders up next to him, eyeing the suspect. Damn this post 9/11 age.
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