Here’s another story from our trip to Virginia: In the Dulles Airport waiting to come home, Steve and I sat down at T.G.I.Friday’s for some disgusting, greasy breakfast. Our table was on “the patio” aka out in the terminal hallway. Here we had a good view of the passengers coming and going and also of the abandoned hostess stand.

Midway through our meal, a woman with a baby strapped to her front and two BRIGHT red-headed twin boys, estimated age four, in tow came by. These boys were trouble. Begging for stuff, whining, lagging behind. While Mom forged ahead, they spotted the basket of mints on the T.G.I.Friday’s hostess stand and conspired to sneak a handful. Together they reached up and grabbed their stash, and then they chose, as a hiding place, one of the twin’s pants. That’s right, he put a handful of stolen mints down his pants. At this point, Mom spies them and returns. She’s mad. The twin takes the mints back out of his pants, and Mom sees the handful and, unaware of where they’ve been, directs his hand with hers to put them back in the basket before she hurries them onward.

At this point, only Steve and I know that the topmost selection of the hostess’s mints are tainted. They have been down a four-year-old boy’s pants. We watch more people come and go in the terminal. We see the twins again. Now with Dad, they’re out for a walk. Dad doesn’t have luggage or a baby strapped to him, so he can be a little more watchful. This time when the boys go for the mints (again), he’s right on it. “But Mommy said we can take some of these for later,” whines one of the boys when Dad begins to jerk them away from the hostess stand. “No, she did not,” Dad is quick to reply, “Don’t fib.” BAD little twins!

Still, the tainted mints lay in wait for an unsuspecting mouth. As Steve’s and my dishes are cleared away, a small group of blinged-out ballers comes striding along. Casually, smoothly, entitledy, the top baller diverts his course to scoop out a handful of mints from the T.G.I.Friday’s hostess stand and then keeps on walking toward his gate. Yes, he stole some mints meant for patrons of a restaurant he did not patron. And oh, did he deserve them.