My team and I - altogether a band of five - had been on the rig for 3 months now. Most of the time, we stayed in tents, ate crackers and played poker, while keeping an eye on the main door to arrest anyone leaving the inside of this wretched place. The winds of the sea were sharp, and the smell of corroded metal and oil made most of us wince when the air blew the worst way. But this was a job our unit did - war on drugs in international waters or whatever Sealand counted as. Drugs were evil. So were the people who took them and we were to lock them away. So far, in this time, we had met only three groups of people. First were the three men who tried to leave before Sealand went into a lock-down mode. We waited in the shadows of the main tower and tackled them when they came out. They smelled of weed and booze and could barely comprehend what was happening to them. I think one even passed out and stared snoring while my second was putting on the handcuffs. We called HQ and a helicopter came. "Good job!" and of they were. The dictator of Sealand saw this and locked the doors before my men could get in. We banged on the door and even tried to shoot it open(crackers make men desperate for results), but to no avail, door was sealed for good. We just had to wait the people out - until their food run out. The second was a woman. She came out in the morning, goosebumps and a summer dress. "I am here to talk!", she said while my second tried to tackle the enemy once again. The woman moved sideways and he fell over on to the concrete floor. "I just want to ask you, why are you doing this? Why must we be put away in prison just because we do to our bodies as we please? Why is that a crime?" "Because you corrupt the youth. Make them think drugs are cool." "Isn't that the prohibition and the secrecy about them that makes them "cool"? "