I had to pat down a half-naked, smelly, sweaty, dirty, fat dude to make sure he wasn't smuggling in alcohol... and he patted me down in return. I'm pretty sure that's where I caught the plague which has ailed me to some degree for the 9 months since.

Someone needs to give that a home in fiction. I don't know if it will go in this story -- at Pagan festivals there's not usually a reason for anyone to get patted down unless they really, really want to be -- but I'm so glad to have that incident to file away.