Waiting on the sidewalk while my wife was selecting her after-dinner dessert at Mike’s Pastry in the North End, I saw many signature Mike’s boxes tied with string being carried by in the evening crowd. As a tall young woman wearing a black leather jacket passed me, I overheard her claim to her friend that she once got brass knuckles through security at Logan Airport because the screener was so focused on her Mike’s box. As the pair passed out of earshot, I wondered about the rest of the story.
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