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Arkansas
Little Rock
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February, 2002.
9/11 still freshly in mind, security was tight.
The main front entrances were closed and people were routed to
a small basement entrance under the stares (a common post 9/11
strategy). Metal detectors then a dim, empty hall. Tinted dark
orb on the ceiling undoubtedly housed video cameras. A voice
came from an unknown direction.
"State your business."
I looked around, confused. "I just wanted to look around."
"Proceed up to the desk."
I walked to the end of the small hallway and peeked around the
corner to see a collection of state troopers behind a security
desk, behind glass and banks of miniature security monitors. "Go
right ahead."
Whew.
The men's room was clean and had quality fixtures and building
materials but was not ostentatious. As I proceeded to make my
"delivery" I noticed a fine bit of local graffiti inside the stall.
A drawing of a rather impressive erection labeled Bill Clinton.