So baby, here's your ticket Put the suitcase in your hand Here's a little money now Do it just the way we planned You be cool for twenty hours And I'll pay you twenty grand
There's a seedy underbelly to this town, and it's part of the reason I moved here. I'm far from an outlaw; I went to private school ffs, But there has always been something appealing to me about the pirate life, living a step ahead of the law, defying convention. It's here in spades, but you have to look for it. The powers that be have crafted a veneer of a picture-perfect UNESCO World Heritage Site 1500's town. And it can be that, if you want it to be. But there's more, and tonight I found a little bit of it.
The sailors and pilots The soldiers and the law The pay offs and the rip offs the things nobody saw No matter if it's heroin, cocaine, or hash You've got to carry weapons Cause you always carry cash
"So this fella in Belize paid us $5K to move these bales of weed from Belize to Florida, and I was 24 with nothing else to do so what the hell," was how the story started. I'm at my go-to bar, The Snug, and this 50ish fella rolls in looking every bit the part of a midwestern stockbroker on vacation. Unless he was full of shit, and most people here are, this cat has lived a life. So he and his buddy "acquire' a sailboat, stow the weed below, and begin their venture. Sadly, they encountered a hurricane. At this point, their options were limited, and discussions were had. 2-5 years was the generally accepted sentence for drug running in those days, so they accepted their fate and radioed the US Coast Guard. 'It was that or die, man." Coast Guard shows up and never board the boat and towed our heroes to Corpus. I didn't ask what happened with the weed, which upon reflection seems relevant.
There's lots of shady characters and lots of dirty deals Every name's an alias in case somebody squeals It's the lure of easy money, it's got a very strong appeal
A love story. No, really. "I was detained in JFK the day I met my wife and future mother of my children." This guy, a different guy, had been illegally living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn for awhile, completely illegally. He's Northern Irish, but Catholic (aside: the violence continues there. He was home for a month, and there were seven bombings. It's not reported because people like to believe it's solved. It isn't.). He and a woman he'd never met had been chatting online and sparks flew. He was going to Burning Man, but they had plans to meet up when he returned. He returned, but was detained by immigration. After the necessary interrogation, he was handed his passport and told to wait in a room for the police who were going to take him to jail for deportation. Our guy jiggled the knob, and it was open. He kept walking. Nobody stopped him until he saw a Yellow Cab, got in and left. He got home and had some drinks, as one would, and messaged his girl. They met for a drink. Unfortunately, the day's earlier cocktails proved to be a truth serum. He revealed that he enjoyed his cocktails, his weed, the occasional line of blow and was currently on the run from the law. But he was around 40 years old and was ready to settle down.
This gal grabbed her shit and ran for the train.
Well, fortunately, our friend chased her down and told her that despite all that, he felt that they could make a go of it. She offered the cheek kiss goodbye, but he went in for the kill. A 10 minute makeout later on a train platform, she told him to call her tomorrow.
He did. They are married with 2 kids and live in Antigua, Guatemala.
It's a cool place, gang. I can't wait for more.
Perhaps you'd understand it better standing in my shoes It's the ultimate enticement It's the smuggler's blues
Smuggler's Blues: Glenn Frey (still a goddamn jam)
No comments:
Post a Comment