Yesterday, a group of friends and I went on an "interactive" walk through Bethlehem that is put together annually by a rather large Baptist church with plenty of spare land, in Macon, GA. Keep in mind this was a church function. Just outside the gates of Bethlehem, we met up with our "guide". She claimed our group as members of her "direct descendants of David" family to some men who where dressed in short, gray, "go-go" looking dresses collecting our census cards. They asked our guide if she had any slaves to declare in the group, naturally she said no. I was standing there with my thumbs hooked into my back jean pockets waiting to be let through the gates, minding my own business and taking in the scenery. In my hand was a coin our guide gave us for paying the taxes. I believe the coin was supposed to be a 10 denarius coin piece (it was actually a genuine coin from modern day Israel). While standing there, I was thinking to myself that maybe I could get away with not paying the taxes and keep the pretty little coin for myself. Suddenly there was a small commotion from the group behind me when two rather ominous ( and very authentic) looking centurions read my mind, shoved their way through the crowd, grabbed me from behind by both elbows and shouted to our guide, "Is this woman not a slave?"
Well, naturally that set off a chain of events to this day I will never forget. While grabbing me from behind, with my thumbs still hooked into my back pockets, (instinctively causing me to grip my back pockets even tighter) the guards jerked UP on my elbows and inadvertently gave me a wedgie, causing me to let off a small yelp of surprise which caused my husband to instinctively grab me away from the fierce guards ergo sending our group asunder. Meanwhile, a five year old member of our group started screaming, "they're going to kill her" and crying hysterically whilst trying to break away from the melee. Her mother gives the centurions a soul shattering glare while running after the little lass and calling for her to come back. Once the..cough,cough.."snafu" was under control, and I regained my composure, I realized I dropped the damn coin after all. 
The moral to the story? When in Bethlehem, do as the Romans say.
