This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2014, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.

Editor's note: Robert Kirby is on vacation. This is a reprint of an earlier column.

This is my semi-annual LDS General Conference report. Mainly I'd like to report that I was almost thrown out of the Conference Center.

It was my first Confurnz inside the Meganacle. Past attendance has been limited to hanging around outside hoping to see a real fight between street preachers and attendees.

This year, I combed my hair and actually attended the Sunday morning session. Just getting inside turned out to be way harder than I thought.

First, I needed a ticket. Because the decision to go had been arrived at late, I couldn't be choosy. I called the church's PR office, vowed to behave, and scored a "down close" seat.

In the Conference Center "down close" means any seat from which you can actually tell that a real live human being is standing behind the lectern. All other seats require major adjustment to compensate for the lag in the speeds of sound and light.

But I wasn't inside yet. Having a ticket merely gives you the right to present yourself for admission. It doesn't mean they'll actually let you in.

"They" refers to Confurnz security, of which there are many forms. First is the Salt Lake City Police Department. Unlike church security, they are not morally obligated to be polite when they see someone from the media.

I wasn't even on church property before it started — cops offering assorted indignities ranging from being overcome by the spirit of a stun gun to simply calling my bishop and telling him some stuff.

Next was the church's first line of defense, unarmed volunteers screening the throngs for any suspicious types. It soon became clear that this was anyone who looked like me.

My briefcase bothered them. In the space of 30 seconds I was told "no," "yes," "I think so," and "maybe" as to whether it would be allowed inside.

Eventually they agreed on "absolutely not." I was sent to portal No. 14 where my bag was checked. I was allowed to remove a notebook, camera and a large bag of M& M's.

My second attempt was thwarted by the presence of the camera. Once again I was passed along from one now possibly armed security person to another until "no" became "maybe" and finally "OK, but don't take any flash pictures."

Then it was on to the metal detector where I shucked out the contents of my pockets. A pocketknife rang the bells of heaven.

After considerable mulling, additional security personnel arrived and said, "Oh, it's you." They let me keep the knife but wanted my pen and notebook.

Finally, I was in. Sort of. There was one final check. In the enormous foyer a familiar face appeared. This guy I knew had a gun. He had one when he wrote me a ticket two years ago.

It was UHP Sgt. Jeff Chugg. He was a volunteer Conference enforcer. I ranted about the separation of church and state. Unfazed, Jeff told me to behave myself before the Spirit moved him to shoot me in the leg.

Frazzled, I made it to my seat. President Hinckley gave a good talk on forgiveness. Lucky for me he didn't mention church security in particular.

Robert Kirby can be reached at rkirby@sltrib.com or facebook.com/stillnotpatbagley.