At the airport going home they wanted a 'bag search' on my only bag, an old SCUBA bag which I now use as a gym bag. It held my used ARMA uniform, uniformly saturated in my sweat, my jockstrap, socks, and shoes, along with a sweat-ruined Netflix envelope and some Japanese candy I got at the Hong Kong supermarket, among other things. One of the other things was a baby cigarette lighter, which I must have lost in there a long time ago, which after about 3 passes through the X-ray machine (after pulling and dumping my ball-stanking jock, which had been sharing the bag with a tub of miso paste long warmed in the trunk of the rental car, into bin after bin, ready to be passed back to the grandmas behind me in line) was found between layers through a rip in the fabric. I was surprised to find it there since I haven't put cigarettes in that bag in probably years, and more surprised that the lighter hadn't been found on any of the possibly half-dozen trips through security it took during its residency in the bowels of my bag. I have to imagine that the hand-check girl was more than thankful for her size Small latex gloves on that particular shift.