In the Fairfield Weekly, Tom Gogola writes of a horrifying encounter with security forces that began, as these things always do, with fried potato products.
I was heading back to Connecticut after a weekend with the family when I took the photo. I'd eaten the fries on the way over, but couldn't stomach another round, so I snapped two photos at the food counter, and as I was putting the camera away, two guys behind the counter started lobbing hostile, accusatory questions in my direction. "Why are you taking pictures of the food?" "I'm writing a review," I responded, and walked away.
I went outside to take some notes and then headed back into the cabin. I observed that there were two crew members standing near me, and I heard one of them talking about me, and the photo I took. I had been turned in!
I'm of the mindset that when overzealous 9/11-hero wannabes start making ridiculous accusations, I am going to stand up and say something. If I hear you talking about me like I might be a terrorist for taking a picture of french fries, I am going to interrupt and put some perspective on the matter. So I approached the mate and told him I had a complaint about his crew. I didn't appreciate their hostility. Yes, I was livid. Stone-cold sober, too.
F-bombs are thrown, IDs are deemed invalid, and hilarity ensues.