"Can I help you?", asked an angelic looking twenty-something. Her glossy ID tags suggested she might be of assistance, but I had been disappointed by many officials before her.
I had found myself stranded at the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C. The police-escorted media bus that drove us here had to depart without me, as I had to retrieve a camera battery charger plugged into the basilica walls. Suddenly, I found myself in a less privileged situation: a lost credit card, a non-functional debit card, $15 to my name, remembering little about the route from the media hotel, other than that it was far away and through a rough looking neighbourhood.
Forgive me, as I'll have to explain how this story ends when I return from Nationals Stadium. Our security sweep is about to begin.