"It's been swell having a fifth honeymoon here on the outskirts of Beirut.  But it seems there are flights, south of here, south of the no fly zone." One woman started to cry.  She'd been robbed by the very man in the corner of the room.  The man with the gun out in the open.  All the singing had made him drowsy but not really sleeping.  He roused.  "Which piece of shit did you marry?"  Minds registered New York accent.  I looked at my feast friends.  Before I could pin it on anyone, my years of travel training kicked up my sense of humor.  But my quip was overshadowed by the hostage holder waving the revolver around at each potential "loved one" and him saying, "Darkie, right?!" 

  "Well, the rest of us are women so that would be the logical conclusion.  However," the women began cleaning up supper, moving about the room, casually standing in front of one another and "the black man".  He wants to get away with the money, so stay cool, an experienced cave dweller had intimated before going to a village for a "leg of salami".  

  I was memorizing all this on a bus in California when it got stopped and people in plain green jump suits held us up.  Separated from the bus had us seeking shelter in a common area vaguely attached to a "clinic".  Some elderly people gave us the skinny as they stretched and shook numb body parts.  Entire neighborhoods hostage to Commies.  Who'd apparently teamed up with all these Godforsaken liberals.  An elderly person knocked into a passing cart and took the granola bars that fell off.  "It's not stealing," he explained, "I paid taxes my whole life.  They took over our hang-out shelter."  

     "What fracas?" A woman with a very Long Island accent was on a big cellphone outside a plate-glass window looking in at five elderly people in paper gowns.  The Asian worker was still in a Communist uniform.  "Excuse me," the woman tried to grab the attention of a passing black woman in scrubs by grabbing her arm.  Her ripped acrylic fingernail scratched the medical person.  The medical person whipped medical scissors from her pocket, cut open gauze and a piece of tape, covered her scratch then looked at the woman.  "You need help?"  The woman pointed the woman's eyes in the direction of the windowed room.  "Why are they in there like that?" 

  "Which center is this?" 

  The woman threw the phone into a big bag and pulled out a crumpled up map.  She showed the woman where they were.  "Hmmmmm-hmmmm...then that's," she pulled a folded and laminated re-positioning chart/diagram from one of her pockets.  Pointed at the diagram, "Unclaimed Property." Both women looked at each other like getting something.