The Secret Service Escort.

The last miles to the edge of Nashville proper from Madison started famously with a man claiming to be the director of the Secret Service. He was wearing an old aluminum framed pack, a ball cap and blue jeans. He had gotten off the transit bus a moment earlier. The bus had let him off midway between stops. I am certain the driver was more than happy to comply with the direction to "Stop the bus!" From a man of such importance.
The Director of the Secret Service, (obviously working "under cover") though he was on his way to meet the President that evening, announced he was going to walk with me all the way into Nashville!
Honored as I was, this seemed a "detail" doomed for failure.
We approached the intersection onto a side street as a car was turning in. While the car passed Nice (the dog) sat on the ground in front of The Director. Without noticing the eighty pound dog at his feet, The Director then tripped over the dog, tumbled head over heal and bedroll onto the middle of the roadway.
For a moment he wallowed like a prone turtle before he can get an arm on solid ground.
I rolled the World alongside him and blocked the intersection while he righted himself.
The "detail" was showing a lack of attention to hazard.
When I entered a quick-mart for my morning coffee, The Director stood by the door explaining (in his own style) who I was and what I was doing. He must have canvassed the route ahead of time, the clerks behind the counter glared at him as if they knew him. I paid for my coffee without incident.
The Quick-mart was on a corner of a major intersection. The Director informed me this was a dangerous one. Without looking he threw his arms up, marched out on the crossway, blocking the path of a twenty-foot rental truck, stopped, turned about. He didn't see the truck stopped five feet from him until he had turned completely around. He flailed his arms in frustration then marched the rest of the distance over the five lane crosswalk.
The crossing light flashed from a red hand to white, a white pedestrian figure, I rolled the World safely to the other side.
Red flags were plaguing the operation.
The Director informed me that once he had escorted me to the next major intersection I should be safe.
While he screened another poor someone in a car who had stopped in a parking lot ahead of me, I rolled behind a strip of shops along the highway and rolled to the next crossroad on my own.
The "detail" was cut short..