Fucking Terror in Houston (Colombia part II) (570 hits)
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Submitted by Puking Dog (View user info) at 2004-02-11 22:19:42 EST
I was coming back from spring break at San Andrés island. Although it is quite near the coast of Nicaragua, it is part of Colombia.
One week of absolute debauchery. Drugs, and so much alcohol. Every night we would wake up with our calves cramped, that awful tight pain, a sure indication of being utterly dehydrated. Only to get up and destroy ourselves all day again.
I was living in Florida, and flew to Guatemala where Luis was living. It was 1988, and I hadn't lived in Colombia for just over a year. I was to meet Luis in Guatemala City, stay for a few days, and then we flew to San Andrés together. It was Easter break in Colombia, "Semana Santa." Saints' Week. The fucking saint of drug induced bad scenes must have been San Andrés.
I was seventeen, and had no business flying to South America for an unsupervised week of hedonism. My girlfriend Maxi, Luis's girlfriend Viviana, and our other lady friend, Tory, were the main reason we wanted to go there. But the entire senior class of our old Colombian School, Colegio Nueva Granada, was there. It was senior trip! Anyway, the ladies, who were all still living in Bogotá, smuggled 12 grams of coke in condoms in their undies. Twelve grams. That is a ridiculous amount of coke for seven days, even with five people. By the time we left, my nose was constantly bleeding. What the fuck did we know, we had fun.
At the end of the trip, the girls left first, and Luis and I left the next day. We were done with the coke. We hated it. I actually never did it again in my life after that trip. We had about three grams left, and we were in the airport flushing it down the toilet when I had a brilliant idea:
"Hey man, this shit has to be worth a lot in the states. I should take it back there and try to sell it." This, after we had flushed most of it. Probably just over a gram left, but that was worth about $100 give or take. In Colombia you could buy that much for six bucks.
* * *
Fast forward to customs in the Houston airport. My bright idea was to stick the coke in an empty rolling papers pack, which was in the breast pocket of my jacket. The first thing you do in customs is stand in a line, where they check your passport. There are fucking cameras everywhere. At some point in the line, I am thinking that maybe it isn't a good place for my coke. So, I deftly take it out and get it to my watch pocket in my jeans - you know the little pocket in Levi's above the right pocket. I stick the empty rolling papers pack in there. I was carrying the rolling papers thing because I was smoking this pipe tobacco, Captain Black, I think, in rolled cigarettes. It was cool, I would be alright.
But I kept getting more nervous. After they check your passport, you go fetch your luggage, and then you get in another line where they either wave you through, or you go up to this table, looks like a supermarket checkout, and you lay your bag up there and they go through your shit. The guy there has all kinds of tools to go through your shampoo, coffee, lotion - anything you have. In my case, he was going through a bunch of dirty clothes. I hadn't shaved in a week. I had long, sun bleached blond hair. I looked like a total scummus. I was in for it. My fucking heart was pounding.
So, he's asking me, how long were you in Colombia, why were you there, etc. I had good answers - I used to live there, was partying on the beach, etc. Then he starts asking me if I've ever been arrested. My heart stopped. That was not a good question to be asked. I knew what was coming.
"Okay, why don't you pick up your bag and follow me."
This is what you never, EVER want to hear when you are smuggling drugs into the United States.
My bag was a huge duffel bag. I had to think fast. I laid my jacket on top of it, and picked it up, holding it to my chest with my arm over the top of it. Now, follow me here. I had to make my right arm look like I was supporting it underneath for this to work. I am following him to a door in the back of the room. Fifteen feet away. I am able to cover my right hand with the bag as I clench it into my chest, and I retrieve the rolling papers pack. I squish it up as much as I can, and it is in my right fist as we reach the door. This is where the patron saint of total fuckups, San Andrés, intervenes for me, oh so divinely.
As this dick goes to open the door, some other customs agent is coming out. My guy holds the door for me, and I tell him to go ahead, AND HE DOES. All that has to happen is for him to insist I go through first, and I am dead. Think of what the penalty is in your state for possession of cocaine. Now, multiply it by ten, because that is what smuggling will get you. He turns to go in the room, and I, the best I can, without swinging my arm, whip the shit in my hand towards the floor to my right. If anyone sees this, I am busted. There is a huge room full of people and I cannot believe it when no one comes running up behind us and produces my package.
We go in the room, where another agent is counting money with someone. You have to declare cash over $10,000 when entering the country. Why couldn't I be that guy?
He takes me into a smaller room and shuts the door. Me and him. Alone. He asks why I am so nervous. I am just waiting for someone to come in and tell him what they found on the floor outside.
He has me take off my shoes, and he checks them, makes me empty my pockets on a little table, etc. Then, he has me come to the middle of the room. There is a line on the floor. He tells me to put my feet on the line, right behind it. There is a line on the wall in front of me, and he tells me to put my hands above it. He tells me to spread my hands and feet as wide as I can. I am leaning forward, with absolutely no balance. This is how they want it. then, he takes his nightstick out. Oh, fuck. He is going to beat me!
He places it behind my neck, but gently, as he takes his right knee and places it under my right hamstring. He is leaning into me, totally dominating, and says to me, "If you move, I will break your fucking neck."
From this position he searches my entire upper body. This is not a pat-down. This is a squeeze down. You couldn't hide a fucking band-aid from these people.
He then moves away and begins with my legs. When he gets to my balls, he completely feels them for about thirty seconds. This is an important area for them , because it is the number one hiding place. I can't believe he didn't make me take my britches off. Of course, after this little part he knows every inch of my cock-n-balls. He knows there is nothing there.
Finally, he lets me off the wall. When I look at him, his demeanor has changed. He doesn't look so... fucking cocky. He tells me to put my shoes on. Then another guy comes in, the same guy that was coming through the outer door earlier, my fucking savior, with this big grin on his fucking face. And then he looks puzzled, and says, "Nothing?" And the fucking anus says, "No, I can't believe it!" Ha ha! They were so sure I was dirty! Finally I am free to leave, and I do. Right fucking then. I was in that little room for a half hour with that guy, and I was in danger of missing my connecting flight.
So, I exit into the main room, turn left to leave, and there it is. Right on the floor, a slightly crumpled rust colored piece of shit. Two feet in front of me. And I actually think to myself, "You could set your bag down, tie your shoes, grab this fucking thing, and be outta here with it." This flashes through my mind in an instant, along with the thought that maybe, just maybe, someone saw me do it, and yet recognized that I was a scared kid, and were giving me a chance to get out.
I will never know, because I hit that fucking door to freedom so fast and never looked back, and never in my life, and I mean EVER, did I feel such a relieving wave of joy.
I am, without a doubt, the luckiest person ever to have lived on this earth.
User Reviews
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2008-05-20 08:55:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great story - lucky bastard
Submitted by hairycoo (user info) at 2004-02-18 08:24:29 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
good shit. shame it didn't get more attention.
Submitted by kilndropheaven (user info) at 2004-02-13 15:31:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
That was intense. Whew!
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2004-02-13 15:06:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm e-mailing this to your mom.
Submitted by Yes (user info) at 2004-02-11 22:30:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
ahhh, the good old days....