When I returned to my room to pack, my keycard no longer worked. ‘Check out was 10.00 this morning,’ the maid in the corridor said. ‘Your stuff has been moved. You need to see reception.’ I headed back across the university campus to the administration building, where a long line of new arrivals had already formed. Worried about missing my flight, I pushed my way to the head of the line but was told by the staff I would have to wait. ‘But my tickets and passport…’ I protested. The reception staff ignored me. An American woman queuing to check in told me to ‘shift my ass’. At the far end of the reception hall was a curtained-off area. I sneaked through the heavy drapes in the hope of finding my possessions. A large mound of luggage lay heaped on the floor, but a security guard appeared before I could search for my bags. ‘Guests are not allowed in here,’ he said. Two more guards arrived, dragging a goat with its horns painted blue. They escorted me to the basement, where half a dozen people were sorting piles of clothes and travel items into coloured bins. ‘You forget to check out on time too?’ said a young Asian woman holding a surfboard. ‘I’ve been here two days now. No one will explain what I have to do to get released.’
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Simon Collings
Picture Nick Victor
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