She got up from her chair and started towards the door as my father jumped up in an attempt to stop her. The ensuing commotion attracted the attention of the guard, who entered the room with his hand instinctively placed on his holstered sidearm.
"Is there a problem?" he asked sternly.
She lifted the end of cane several inches of the floor and pounded it back down with a heavy, determined thud.
"I want to go for a walk with my son," she demanded.
The guard glanced at my father, who'd thrown up his hands in resignation and I was speechless. Seeing there was no threat, the guard dropped his hand.
"Ma'am, we don't ordinarily allow that," he replied.
"I don't give a rat's a*s what you allow!" she said, as she beat the end of her cane against the floor again.
Ten minutes later, after my
