On the weekends, we boarding students had but one relief to the tedium of Indian Springs on Saturday and Sunday - the Saturday bus into Birmingham. Perry James, Tom Norton, Noble Hendrix and I often went directly to the downtown chinese restaurant for a feast of comestibles not available on campus. We would order almost one of everything and then spend the afternoon discussing the food and our philosophies.
One Saturday afternoon, an enormous Alabama State Trooper walked by our table. He was about six and a half feet tall and looked like James Dickey. I yelled out to the table, "There goes the long arm of the law, boys!." The trooper turned and put his face into mine, whereupon, a short, banty hen of a man jumped in between and grabbed my hand and shook it furiously. He said, "My name is George Wallace, boy, and I know you can't vote now, but keep me in mind when you can.
I forget what my fortune cookie said.