I can’t say this was the first time I’d been stopped at airport security because there was too much sausage in my carry-on. I bagged that honor in 2007 when TSA’s hackles went up because I had too many links of Salumi’s finnociona in my luggage.
They walk into a house in the middle of Washington, DC, and the nutjob who owns it has pork everywhere. The freezer full of vac sealed sausage. The wine fridge with struggling chorizo. The pancetta in the rafters. The hams hanging in the shed. And the pork ribs.