Becoming A Son

by David Labrava

  We drove about ten minutes and we pulled up to a big barn.

  “What are we doing?”

  “I dont know. Me think he wanna show us something.”

  Carlito got out and opened the barn door and there was about thirty thousand pounds of Colombian weed stacked neatly in bales all the way to the ceiling. Jamaican bails usually came in any shape or size covered in brown tape that is stuck to itself. They would just put the bail on a spindle and put tape all around it. Colombian bails were always perfect. Burlap bags with a red green and red stripe on them. This barn had some beautiful gold Colombian weed with white hairs. Sweet Santa Marta Colombian. This is years before green weed hit the scene.

  My eyes lit up like a kid in a candy store. Montgomery saw that.

  “Dont freak dem out mon. Me dont think dey smoke.”

  I started looking in every pocket I had. Montgomery started laughing.

  “You dont got no paper, have you?” He laughed even harder.

  I picked up a brown paper bag and started crumbling it up and un-crumbling it over and over, basically just softening it out. Then I took about an ounce of weed, cleaned the seeds out of it and rolled a one ounce joint in brown paper. The Indians all lined up to watch me smoke it like it was a big show. Not one person there smoked weed except me. I sat back and smoke that GIANT spliff like it was nothing. The Indians were totally impressed. I took a big bag for my stay and we went back to the encampment.

  They were getting ready for dinner, they had a big fire going and everyone was doing some task to help the tribe. There were goats walking around and I was petting one. The Indians found that amusing as this goat was dinner and I didn’t know it. There was a Y about six feet tall made of sticks that was stuck in the ground. They put ropes around the goats back feet and pulled all of a sudden yanked it up through the Y. Then they cut the goats throat and caught all the blood in a bowl. I stepped back and bumped into Montgomery.

  “They dont waste anything here. Try not to get to friendly with their dinner.” He said.

  I walked over to the edge of the fire and smoked another brown paper joint.

  We slept under this big overhang in hammocks. About twenty hammocks fit under the overhand. The hammocks were real thick and you could swing the sides over and cover yourself up completely, which was necessary as it was as cold as can be at night in the desert. Carlito snored so loud it kept everyone up all night except him. Didn’t matter though, Carlito is the MAN in these parts so everyone just joked him in the morning.

  We got up and went looking at three different airstrips, each directly on the edge of a cliff that led out to open Ocean. For somebody that has landed on all kinds of makeshift airstrips, this set up didn’t look so bad.

  At the last air strip Carlito took out a pen and paper and wrote down some things and handed it to Montgomery. He read it and the smile left his face. He looked back at Carlito who was anxiously waiting for his response. Montgomery smiled and said OK which made Carlito jump for joy.

  “What’s he want?” I asked. Montgomery handed me the piece of paper. In badly written English it said -.44 .357 9mm Browning S &W.

  “He wants us to bring him guns when we come pick up the load.” Montgomery did not like this at all.

  “What did you tell him?’

  “What you think? I tell him we comin back next week wit his guns. You wanna get home or not?”

  We drove all night back to Caracas and left the next day. The planes were bigger and nicer back then, or so it seems anyway. I settled into my seat, buckled up and looked at Montgomery.

  “So when we coming back?” BMontgomery looked at me as if I was completely stupid, then he smiled.

  “Never. If we come back here that chief of Police is gonna kill us both, take our plane, money and the guns we bring him.”

  I thought about that for a minute.

  “An besides. I dont work wit cops. Evern if dey dirty.”

  It was a long plane ride back to Jamaica, when I got there I looked around at my room. I had been living in Jamaica for about a year. I had a little saved up, not much. I thought, some times you gotta know when to get out. Don’t wait till the last minute or till you have to leave, or are asked to leave or are arrested. Sometimes its best to pick up pack up and move on, see what other adventure is out there. So that’s what I did. I went surfing one more time. Gave my surfboards to the dreadys that surfed the break that I had made friends with. There was a big twelve tribes dance the night before I left. I had made quite a few friends in my time in Jamaica and they all came to say goodbye. It was hard to go but I was ready. There is no excitement like the excitement of the unknown.

  28

  I got back to Miami and got a job painting houses to stay alive and kill time while I waited for a smuggling job . A lot of guys were still smuggling, some got arrested, some got killed, a few got rich. Not many. I wanted to move to California and I needed money to do that. I had to get on the right boat.

  Smuggling was much sketchier than when I started. The cops had confiscated boats and were now using them to catch the smugglers. So they now had boats as fast as us.

  Big boats with big motors that were not previously in the cops budget. It was always a contest who had the biggest fastest boat around. Now the cops were in that contest also. They would hang out at Rum Runner bay, which was this bar on the water that all the rich smugglers hung out at making connections, showing off their boats. The cops would be there taking pictures and writing down numbers.

  They Cops now had a helicopter that would go back and forth up and down the coast looking for anyone who dared cross our coastline in a boat full of weed. The guys I worked for never took loads of coke. I got a job on a good boat for fifteen grand in one night to bring back a boatload of weed within a couple of weeks.

  We were on our way to the store to stock up for the trip. This was a good boat with a good captain that knew what he was doing. Fat Freddy was the Captain and had been smuggling in these waters for a long time. I grew up at the same beach he did so he knew me most of my life. I did my first couple of jobs with him when he had one boat, now he had six. Freddy was always over prepared. He would take me to the big vegetarian store in town and give me like six hundred dollars for food for an over night stay.

  “You never know what can happen.” He would say. Tell me about it.

  “How come no one in our crew runs coke. The payoff is bigger.”

  “So is the punishment. And not just with the law. With the world.”

  “What do you mean by that.”

  We had just pulled up to the Store. Freddy turned off the motor.

  There aint nothing wrong with weed. Hell, it will probably be legal one day in this life.”

  “You think so?”

  “Sure. Just like prohibition.”

  Freddy handed me six hundred dollars.

  “Go get some supplies. And hurry up, we are leaving by sunset which is in about three hours. We still got a lot to do. Gotta get the boat ready.”

  “Aye aye Captain.” I saluted him. He saluted back. I was always goofing around. It was cool to be about ten years younger than everyone else. Made me feel special.

  Guys were getting busted left and right. It was a big decision to go out again. Just one more time, just one more time was all I kept saying in my head. So few guys got in and made dough and got out. Almost none. Sooner or later it catches up with you. I felt good about this trip. Just one more time I kept repeating in my head. Just one more time.

  There was a reason Freddy was so successful and that is cause he was respected and that was because he was always prepared. He always took care of everyone along the way and they respected him for it.

  We left the dock at sunset, drove out to the meeting point and met a Colombian Freighter. There were already a few boats there unloading. We filled our load and turned back for the coast.

  “We gotta really hurry huh. To beat those other guys.”

  “No we’re good.” Freddy w
as totally relaxed. He looked at his watch, lit a joint and handed it to me.

  “It’s good to give those guys a head start. Gives the cops someone to chase. We aint in no rush. Guys who rush get busted.”

  We drove back at a good pace. Not too fast. Freddy got on the radio and as we pulled into the intercoastal a boat pulled in front of and behind us. These are our escorts. As I passed the boats that were watching out for us my buddy Gary held his hands in the air in Triumph. The only thing I could hear in my head repeating over and over was, ‘just one more time just one more time’.

  We pulled up to the million dollar home and there were five of my friends in there, all dressed in black, al ready to make money. Everyone is happy as hell and trying to be quiet at the same time. We unloaded all the bales in the house, no furniture and plastic on all the carpets. I am certain the owners had no idea who they were renting to.

  We drove the boat to the marina cleaning it with a dust buster on the way. The marine patrol could be waiting for us you never know.

  I walked out of the marina and Freddy was waiting for me in his truck. I got inside and there was a brown paper bag on the seat.

  “That’s for you.” Freddy said as we took off. I opened the bag and it was full of stacks of twenties.

  “It looks a little heavy.”

  “It is. I owe you fifteen grand, that’s twenty five.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “You aint going again. Like I said I been doing this for a long time. It’s amazing I am still alive and free. How old are you? Sixteen?”

  “I just turned seventeen.”

  “Exactly. I don’t know if I’m doing this for you or me. I know you wanna get out, go back to California. Here’s the money. Sooner or later you are gonna get jailed or killed. Or maybe never come back from sea. I guess I just want to see at least one person run this scam and then move on to better things. Take the money and go to California like you want. This is getting washed up for everyone. It aint gonna last forever.”

  We pulled up to my buddy Al’s house where I rented a room. Freddy held out his hand. I shook it. He was a good man.

  “Don’t let me hear about you getting on any other boats either, I mean it.”

  “Aye aye Captain.” I saluted him and he saluted me back.

  I never saw Freddy after that day. He got all tangled up in a big sting operation and ended up fleeing the country with the cops on his tail. Last I heard he was somewhere down in Central America with a wife and like six kids. That doesn’t sound so bad really. I don’t think he can ever come back stateside though. See at least someone got out, and not just me.

  29

  “It will work I’m telling you. Just pick me up at the airport.” Zack hung the phone up on me and I stood in the phone booth thinking this is never going to work. I had made it back out to California and I was living outside Los Angeles near Vista. A lot of my Miami transplant friends had moved out there. Everyone had a hustle. Qua-aludes where big and cheap. A great seller. I wasn’t into Qua- alludes but I was into money. Zack was gonna get on a plane with a backpack full to the top with Qua-aludes. Like I said airport security is not what it used to be.

  “I told you it would work.” Zack said as he got in my truck. I had a badass 1962 Chevy pick up. Drove it out from Florida. Slept in it many a night.

  “What’s the plan?” Zack always had a plan. He was definite climber. He’s got somewhere’s to be.

  “What would you do if you just landed in LA with a backpack full of Qua-aludes?”

  “Sell them. But I bet you got that sewed up.” I said.

  “You can bet we’re gonna sell them. We’re gonna clean up…at the ROLLING STONES CONCERT.” Zack held up two tickets for the Stones at the LA forum. He was so proud of himself. I gotta admit I was a little impressed.

  “It’s tomorrow night. We gotta unload half of these at Marcus’s. The rest is ours. They cost about twentyfive cents a piece when I get them in bulk. You can have them for fifty cents. We can sell them for a dollar all day long.”

  Zack lit up a big joint. He was so proud of himself. He had it all figured out, or so he thought. We met up with our friend Jeff who was also really killing it in California. We all grew up together in Miami. Jeff was as smart as can be. He was bringing keys of coke from Miami to Marin County and doubling his money. He was making eight grand a week at eighteen years old. He had a forty year old girlfriend. Jeff came down from Marin to see the Stones and nothing more. He had a pocket full of mushrooms, some good weed and a bunch of paper trips. Hippie drugs.

  I was dating this Swedish girl named Marie who was going to art school at Otis in Los Angeles. Marie was a gorgeous blonde girl with blue eyes. We both came out here from Miami. She was on a path of getting it together and I was a long haired surfer on a path to getting high. She lived in the dorm across the street from Macarthur park. Which is right around 7th street, where all the action was. All kinds of transients hung out there all the time. That mixed in with a bunch of arty kids and I had a steady flow of customers. I was going back and forth every week on the greyhound bus getting weed and selling it at the school. That was my gig. I had no direction at all, none except getting high.

  I met Zack the next day with Marie in front of the LA forum. Jeff showed up and we started to walk in. Zack had this big bag of Qua-aludes wrapped up in a t shirt.

  “What are you gonna do with that?”

  We looked at the gate and they were checking people who were smuggling in beers. They don’t want people bring in beers, they want to sell beers.

  “Gimme that.” We all got close to each other and I took the bag of ludes and put them in my pocket. I had these army pants on with pockets down the sides so we walked right in. They didn’t even check me.

  Soon as we got inside Jeff pulled out a bag of mushrooms and we got swamped. He was pulling them out and pricing them.

  “25”

  “40”

  “10”

  It went like that until they were gone. Took about five whole minutes. My girl Marie just stood next to us, kind of oblivious. She was an art student working on a degree. She came to see the Rolling Stones with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend came to make some dough. I was an up and coming drug dealer.

  Zack went off tell sell his ludes. He was a lude head.

  “Don’t take any, we came here to sell them Don’t eat any.”

  “I know.” He was already wasted, probably popped a couple for breakfast.

  “Lets all meet back here in an hour.” I said.

  We all split up to go walk around. The forum was filling up fast we were on the field just checking out the carnival of people. Jeff had a bunch of paper trips, but the way he was swamped over the mushrooms he was a little sketchy about trying to off the trips.

  We walked around and got back to the meeting place an hour later and there was no Zack.

  “He probably got busted.” Jeff said.

  “Don’t say that shit. It might come true.” I said.

  “He probably did. He was wasted. You saw that.”

  “I now. Listen, wait here and I will go over to the other side. If he doesn’t show up in 30 minutes come get me.”

  I made my way through the crowd with Marie. She was way excited.

  “The concert is about to start. Lets go up to the front.” She said.

  “Soon as we get Zack we will.”

  We got to the spot and waited for a few minutes.

  “There he is.” Marie pointed. “He’s wasted.”

  Zack was stumbling in our direction.

  “Ludes.” He mumbled to anyone who would listen.

  “Ludes. Anybody want ludes?”

  He was asking everyone and anyone as he passed them. He was holding his rolled up shirt with the bag of ludes in it. Or what was left of it.

  “Lets get out of here. He hasn’t seen us yet .” She said. She was scared.

  “I can’t do that. Relax. It’s gonna be ok.”

  Zack saw us a
nd made a beeline straight for us. If I had enough sense at that time of my life I would have realized by now Zack probably had some cops on him. But these are the lessons you learn the hard way. Like to look beyond what your eyes can see.

  “You’re wasted.”

  “So what. I sold almost all of them.” Zack looked around.

  “Where’s Jeff.”

  “On the other side, let’s go.”

  We stared walking towards Jeff and Zack stopped.

  “Let me put these back in your pocket. And I got a wad of bills also. We all stood real close and Zack put the bills in my hand and I stuffed them in my pocket. About a thousand dollars in one’s fives tens and twenties. Then he gave me the bag of ludes that he had wrapped up in his shirt and I stuffed them in my other pocket. We turned to walk to Jeff and two construction type looking dudes walked up on us and grabbed us by each arm.

  “You both are under arrest.” They said as they flashed their badges.

  The cop looked at Marie then asked me.

  “Is she with you?”

  “Never met her before.” I said.

  The cop looked at Marie with disgust.

  “Get out of here. These guys are going to jail.”

  I looked at Marie and said quietly,

  “Jeff.” Marie turned quickly and walked over to Jeff.

  Everything started moving in slow motion again, just like it always does when you are getting busted. The cops puled the bag of ludes out of my pocket and four people walked right up to buy some, after all the cops just looked like concert goers.

  As they were walking away I could see Marie with Jeff pointing at me and Zack.

  Jeff took all the paper trips out of his pocket and through them in the air.

  “FREE ACID!” He yelled and the crowd went into a frenzy trying to grab a hit. Jeff grabbed Marie’s hand and got away from there fast. Jeff was as smart as could be and he knew they could be following her to him.

  As they escorted us in handcuffs into the locker room of the Los Angeles Rams, I could hear the loudspeaker.