Frisking

Last summer I found myself visiting a nightclub in London with my friend Dalfino Madrigal Keyte, his sister and some of her friends. I’d been to one or two night clubs in the past, so I thought I knew the kind of thing that I could expect from there. Indeed, I had a fairly nice time there and I even wrote about it once before, but there was one thing I didn’t expect about London nightclubs: increased security. On my way into Mother (that was the name of the club) I was frisked for the first (and so far only) time in my life.
    I was asked to stand with my arms spread open, and the man at the door began feeling around for anything that shouldn’t be brought into a nightclub. I’m sure this takes about five seconds for most of the people who walk in wearing t-shirts with no pockets, but I came in with my jacket and had lots of items on me so it took several minutes.
    Through the material, he had a little feel of every item I had on me.
    As he got to one thing, he frowned at me, suspecting something bad.
    “That’s just my ocarina,” I said, offering a reassuring smile.
    He carried on looking. Then he found something else which didn’t feel quite right.
    “My yoyo,” I said in answer to the unspoken question.
    The search continued. He found something else.
    “It’s just a tape measure,” I said.
    “Alright, you can go in then,” he said finally.
    “Oh good,” I said happily.
    “But you can’t take in this.” He pulled my Trusty Water Bottle from my pocket and my heart dropped.
    “Don’t worry, Adam,” said Dalfino’s sister behind me. “I’ll make sure it’s looked after.”
    And I never saw that water bottle again.
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