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Everywhere we went, including The Old Post Office Pavilion, which is a food court, for crying out loud, had a line for security. There was always a metal detector, sometimes an X-ray conveyor belt. The worst part was that each place was unique, even at different museums in the Smithsonian, and they didn't tell you the procedure until right before you got to the front of the line, at which point you had to, say, start flinging metal out of your jacket, which was where you'd put it last time, and into a separate bag. A stray penny tucked way into a pocket threw the guards and me for a loop at one stop. Finally they just asked me something like "Are you a terrorist?" and let me go.
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