Guess where we were today? Here is a clue from M.I.B ...
First, they walk past a sort of passport control center, where a human BUREAUCRAT at a desk is checking the documents of a line of ALIENS who've just arrived. There are a dozen bizarre life forms in that line, CHATTING in half a dozen different alien tongues.
Yup, for the umpteenth time, we were bio metrically processed and fingerprinted. Of course I had my knickers in a twist and was sweating like an Arab so my clammy fingers wouldn't work on the fingerprinting device. The problem was resolved by dunking my fingers in alcohol. How embarrassing! In my anxiety and paranoia of authority I didn't realise until later that Scott had also had his fingers pressed down on the same filthy piece of equipment used by a multitude of the great unwashed. A day of 'fun with Ebola' at the CDC in Atlanta would have been safer.
There was a big sign indicating the threat level is at an okay-ish yellow, which is good news because we still haven't fixed the hole in our screen.