There was no line at the museum and no age limit, the only restrictions amounted to mandatory clothing and an entrance fee.
I approached one of the booths and asked for a ticket, paid the required amount and stepped into the main exposition hall.
The sheer size of it was impressive, making me pause in the middle of the room, marvelling at the ornate ceiling, the crafted windows and every single display case.
My right sleeve seemed to be caught on something, a hand, and the woman attached to it had nothing but fear reflected on her face. It was the ticket seller.
She was forcing herself to remain calm and smile as she slowly mouthed the words “be careful”.
I had no idea what she was going on about until I looked around. The museum was filled with pirates.
They had all paid their entrance fees and were just standing around, gazing at the exhibits if you could believe it, but if someone paid attention to any one of them for a while, one could see the constant wandering of the eyes, always aware of their surroundings.
I tried to go unnoticed, as unnoticed as one can go being the only one with a different fashion sense.
None of them were very talkative and mostly replied to my comments with some grunt or gesture, but never in an aggressive way.