A five minute freewrite, written using 
...
The Garden Tower was a restaurant in the park in the part of town where all the beautiful people lived.
Not being one of the good-looking folks I had to get permission to voyage into that part of town.
The queue for the visa wasn't as long as I expected. A grumpy-looking woman with a clipboard walked up and down the line, occasionally tutting loudly before gesturing at the large ball of muscle accompanying her, who then grabbed the poor unfortunate deemed too ugly to even stand in line, let alone cross into the clean part of town.
She looked me up and down, hesitating before moving on.
Apparently, I had passed some kind of test.
"Purpose of visit?" The droid at the window of the visa office asked.
"I'm meeting someone at the Garden Tower." I said.
I gave the details of Linda, her name, address and beauty permit number and after a few minutes I was told to hold up my arm and a tattoo was burned into my skin.
"It is temporary," the droid said. "You will need to end your visit in four hours time."
...