Kiss anything that shines

On Wednesday morning I took Ike to the groomer for an early morning appointment. When I got to the store, armed guards were in front of the Bradbury Science Museum. They were wearing sunglasses, so you couldn't see whom they were watching, and sidearms, so you wouldn't feel tempted to ask. I figured they were there for a training exercise or something.

But then a busload of suits hove up, and the director of Los Alamos National Laboratory, the Great Man Himself, stepped smartly out of the museum, marched over to the bus, and shook hands with each of the suits as they stepped off. Then everyone swept into the museum like the chorus of Aida vanishing into the Egyptian wings.

I went outside and asked a woman, "Distinguished visitors?"

She replied, "Maybe. Are you with the museum?"

"I'm with the bookstore," I replied. "Are you with the museum?"

"I'm with the police force," she said. Nuance is not lost on me in such situations, and I took that as my cue to leave.

So I walked up the street to get a breakfast burrito, and behind me in line was my friend JR, who is in public affairs at LANL. I asked him if he knew who the suits were. He thought a minute and said, "This is Wednesday, right? They'd be from the Department of Homeland Security." Cool! I thought.

I cantered back to the store with my burrito and the news. I told the staff to put away any liquids or gels in containers holding more than three ounces and to keep their hands where the DHS boys could see them.

The staff of Otowi Station kept their hands in view while DHS visited.

But the DHS folks didn't come into the store to enjoy some shopping for souvenirs. They all boarded the bus as an armed guard checked their badges. I had hoped that The Great Man Himself would have raised his hat with a flourish as the bus drove away. I had hoped that someone would have shouted loyally, "God bless the young squires!"