It is 5. I have an unusual appointment tonight. I just have an address, the meeting is in 15 minutes. I grab my skateboard and go down Lausanne'slopes. The air is unusually warm for early march, and a little snow is left on the mountains. The place I am going to is one of Lausanne's biggest building. It is an old warehouse, a concrete cathedrale formely used by the Swiss Federal Railways. The neighboorhood had had a bad reputation during the past 30 years: prostitution and strong industial heritage made room for an underground culture and unexpected activities.
One last turn on the concrete and here I am at my destination. Number 97 is a small door. It goes easyly unoticed compared to the size of the whole construction. It is closed with a digital code.
A guy in his 50ies comes out. Just when I wanted to go in, the guy stops me and looks at me suspiciously. It is here but the door must be closed at all times. You are not allowed to enter.
You will have to wait outside. In front of the closed door, I watch him jump in his car and leave. He is still looking at me, like if I was a weirdo.
I am not surprised by the mistrust of this guy. After all, this activity must be suspiscious in his eyes. Odd neighbourhood, young guys with protective masks, a weird chemical smell coming out of their workshop and all of it in this old warehouse. There are reasons to be suspisious I guess. And surfboards Couldn't they have had a better alibi to cover up their activities? He must be thinking. I cannot blame him for his reaction.
