Crossing Into Lilliput

A full-sized traveler is visiting Lilliput for the first time in many years and discovers that border security has been dramatically increased.  All visitors are now required to pass through a body scanner, but of course the scanners are too small; at most they could only scan one of the traveler’s fingers.

The tiny guards call their supervisor, newly-assigned from Lilliputian Homeland Security, who refuses to exempt the traveler from the body scan.  When the guards point out the scanners’ insufficient capacity, the supervisor insists that the traveler be physically frisked before being allowed to pass the checkpoint.

This strikes the traveler as slightly ridiculous, but they really miss Lilliput and would be heartbroken to have to abandon the visit, so they carefully move their feet apart and hold their arms out from their sides.

The supervisor gets irate, shouting up at the traveler that the guards cannot possibly inspect them while they are standing up.  The supervisor orders everyone to move aside so the traveler can lie down and submit to inspection.

The traveler finds the supervisor’s loss of composure more than a little amusing, which is exacerbated when the tiny guards draw their miniscule weapons.  The traveler has no intention of breaking Lilliputian law or forcing their way into the country, but it is a real struggle to take this tiny martinet seriously.

Finally the traveler takes a deep breath and very carefully lowers themselves down to the ground in front of the checkpoint, then looks around to make sure everyone is out of the way as they stretch out their limbs and lie down on their back.

The supervisor orders that a mobile gantry crane be brought forward and raised so that they can observe all the inspectors’ efforts.  Over a dozen tiny guards take positions on all sides of the traveler and commence painstakingly frisking them.  Of course the tiny probing hands tickle the traveler, who immediately convulses into laughter.

The supervisor is enraged, screaming that security is no laughing matter and that further failure to cooperate will result in more drastic measures.  The traveler does their best to hold still and ignore the skittering sensations from every direction, but then they glance up at the pompous supervisor, hands on hips, and the traveler once again succumbs to gut-busting laughter.

“That’s it!” screeches the supervisor.  “Okay, people, SUIT UP!“