I am (not) Iron Man

I’m going to tell one touristy story. On the last morning I was in New York I went up the Rockefeller building wearing the following t-shirt:


I was on my own as everyone else had gone up the night I was worrying about my talk. It felt quite early in the morning and I had a long flight to look forward to later that day. I’d also been living out of a rucksack for the last few weeks. I ambled slowly up the stairs, and queued for the security desk. Upon getting there I dutifully put my camera and wallet into a box to slide through the metal detector.

The man operating the machine looked at me.

“What about the rest of it?”

“Erm, I have a belt…?” I was slightly befuddled. I’d had a rather unpleasant time with a customs officer when entering America, and was worried I was in for another browbeating.

“No,no,no, your armour!”

“My.. armour?”  I was seriously confused.

“Yeah Tony! Where’s your armour?”

It was at this point I remembered the t-shirt I was wearing.I was seriously embarrassed I hadn’t cottoned on earlier and come up with a witty remark. I laughed slightly awkwardly and shuffled through the metal detector.

*cue Iron Maiden*


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