Frisky

What’s your best frisk? Travel for a while and you get used to the quickie, so for the record, here are my top four for 2007.

#4 Stone Town, Zanzibar

The lights were out in the Stone Town airport giving the formality that extra intimacy. The airport is not much bigger than a typical storefront. An open-faced building, you can literally sidestep from baggage check to airport taxes to immigration. It’s as quaint as the island itself.

The search was so light that it felt like the guard was brushing the dust off my shorts. My baggage also went through the same fate and was hand-searched so badly I wanted to make them do it again.

#3 Wimbledon, London

Worthy of small dictatorships, the security presence was phenomenal. I was selected for a random search and not only went through the complimentary x-ray and metal detector, but was treated to a bag search for about five minutes. “So, you do this often?” I asked the lady leafing through my journal. “Every fifth person.” She responded vacantly. So much for small talk.

By the by, it means that if you watched the tennis on the telly, one in five in the crowd was most likely sporting a dour expression. Something to look for in Wimbledon ‘08.

#2 Electric Ballroom, Camden Town

Hey hey, a surprise frisk. After waiting half an hour in line, I paid a tenner to get a ticket into the club. Three steps later a bouncer relieved me of the ticket and gave me a once-over. Typically I don’t like burly men feeling me up, but tonight it was service with a smile.

He spotted a book jutting from my coat. “Ya come ‘ere ta read?” He asked, pointing. “Birthday present. It’s a birthday present. It’s, uh, my birthday.” Smooth. He just stared a while, and then burst into laughter.

#1 Harare Airport, Zimbabwe

Technically not a frisk, but certainly a special occasion. I entered Zimbabwe and was promptly ordered into a tiny room for a random search. “Put you beg on de tebel.” The lady in the room instructed. I acquiesced, and asked what this was about. A standard check for illegal items, I was told.

“Such as..?” My anti-Mugabe books were safely in Pretoria, but my mind was running over anything that could be used against me. “Porn. Books, magazines. Do you have any porn?”

My God. I laughed and offered her my copy of Brave New World. I don’t think she saw the humour, but we ended up chatting and she taught me how to say ‘hi’ in Shona.

A queue was forming outside, unsurprisingly every white person in the plane was privy to random searches that day. Ndeipi everyone.