Instead, there were the Censors.
An iguana-looking woman in high-cost cycling pants unfroze and crossed in front of the tables put together, side by side, lengthening the rectangle. She ripped a piece of tablecloth off. Of the profoundly humble bunch of academics, professionals, clergy, and service people on the not the masses side of the tables, one stood up and one in EMS clothes started towards chase and tackle.
A youngish oldish man grabbed the EMS woman's forearm but she squirmed out of the coat and went after as the man folded the coat over one of his arms and shouted first in Israeli, then Turkish, then Arabic. The tables had been positioned between two very large field tents but closer to the mouth of "the funnel" where people had been descending from the Great Smoky Mountains and getting health checks.
"Is someone going to translate?" A woman in a skirt and flats called out.
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