Once at the San Bernardino GC, the door watcher asked me what my purchase was today when I was walking out.
After being in there for a few minutes, and not wanting to deal with the "namm show noise" I left, totally empty handed, tank top and shorts.
I looked down at my
empty hands, sandals, knees, and pockets and said "New Behringer ankles", or something to that stupidity...after about 7-8 seconds of a confused stare from Lurch Jr. ,

I walked out the door.
Does the door watcher work his/her way up into assistant-super-sweeper?
Eventually?
Ahh, the days are gone.....