I'm continuing to follow unusually large groups of people to see what they're doing. It's the herd instinct.

A gathering of red shirts on the street caught my eye. Convention volunteers are color coded, but I hadn't paid much attention to who was who. Obviously, Green marks the Recycle volunteers and I'm pretty sure orange is transportation (some drivers, some just telling other people where to drive) and yellow, administration. So I approached the red group to check them out.

Their shirts read: Access Control.

"So, you're the red shirts" I said, hoping to land a Star Trek fan, where expendable cast members wearing that color found their way into geek lexicon.

"Or the Brownshirts," one volunteer deadpanned.

I asked another redshirt working the door what they did if someone ignored their request for credentials; did they have a panic button that summoned someone burlier?

She indicated the next security layer inside the doors would catch them without action on her part. Volunteers just take care of timid gatecrashers.