Meet with friends, getting late, excuse myself, take a taxi home. Driver pulls
onto a side-street connecting to the main road. Police shine a light
onto the cab, and seeing me, order the taxi to pull over.
Testily, they command me to exit the car. Not amused, unsure what’s going on, I see little choice.
“Where’s your passport?” they demand.
“Back at the hotel,” I reply. I make it a habit to keep my most valuable travel position under lock and key as much as possible.
“Back at the hotel,” I reply. I make it a habit to keep my most valuable travel position under lock and key as much as possible.
I’m wearing short sleeves and shorts. “What have you got in
your pockets?”
"Nothing."
“Show us,” they order.
I pull out a small wad of cash, and a black credit card. “What’s
that?” they ask accusingly. “My hotel key,” I respond, “Why are you searching
me?” This isn’t America where the police must have probable cause.
“Empty other pocket,” they order.
“I don’t have anything.”
“Empty pocket.”
Two cases, one small green plastic labelled 'Glide,' and the other a metallic black emerge.
“What’s that?” they demand.
“Dental floss dude.”
“And that?”
“My camera, would you like me to take your picture?”
They glower at me. “Where are you going?”
“Back to my hotel to get some sleep.”
Unhappy, they tell me to get back into the cab and
go. I don’t delay. Undoubtedly they were hoping to find some contraband
substance, likely drugs, not so they could haul me away to jail, but so they
could extract a bribe from me.
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