On the way to a new job, I was stopped by security at the courthouse today after my purse went through the machine.
“Miss, are you law enforcement?”
“No,” I replied, slightly offended.
“Do you have …handcuffs in your purse?”
“Oh yeah!” I’d forgotten about them. I laughed.
“Can I see them?” As he spoke I pulled them out of my purse, two pieces of metal cuffs joined by a leather strap. Definitely not the handcuffs of a police officer. “Wa–Why…” the security stuttered. He blushed. “I mean, it doesn’t matter why. Let me… check if it’s on the list of [restricted] items.”
It was not on the list. He allowed me to proceed.
They had come in handy before, when a friend of mine forgotten her bike lock. “I can’t find my bike lock I wish I’d had something else on me like rope or–”
I’d pulled the handcuffs out of my purse. “How about these?”
“What?” I’d asked defensively. “I needed them.”
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