Frisker – The Gentleman

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At Airport, earlier this week. I was stowing back my photo identity card into my wallet. I had taken it out before the security check. I just looked at the stack inside my wallet – if things were kept right. “No more currency notes these days,” I was wondering.

“Those plastic cards have taken their place. They consume less space, yet carry more value. Yes, these are secured too, as long as you don’t blurt out the four-digit code in an intimidating circumstance. That said, elders always advise: security is valid only until the wall falls.”

After pushing the wallet into my pocket, I went on to collect my key ring and threw back into the other pocket. Yes, my watch was lying in the tray. I pulled it up, and tied to my left wrist. It was an endless game of dressing up. My belt, then my ever-favourite laptop, and even my coat. I almost undressed myself inside the airport in the broad daylight though the Sun God was refused His direct glance inside.

“Hello!” A voice made me alert in this routine and boring exercise. I wanted to pick my bag, and to move to the departing gate of my flight. As I glanced at him, the person was smiling. He was the same officer who was frisking through all my body with utmost sincerity a few minutes ago. Well, the usual intention was a thorough search, a sincere search. Perhaps, I would never like this kind of people.

“Perhaps, his wife will also suspect his orientation after so many acts on a daily basis. Unmarried people will need their parents’ assistance for their possible marriage.”

“I cannot be so intolerant,” I thought. I smiled back.

He stretched his hand with a piece of paper. It was my ticket that I forgot to collect after it was stamped by him. “He is a gem, after all.” I nodded with gratitude and moved ahead. He was a gentleman.

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