Free Bangkok Hard Time by Jon Cole

the days would creep slowly by. I had to figure out how I was going to pull this off. The question of the ethics or morality of what I was doing never really crossed my mind. Why it did not still bothers me today.
    I rented a larger storage unit to accommodate my van along with my stuff from the smaller unit. A few days later, with excess cash stashed and Butchie left at Bill’s house, I was on the flight to Bangkok. I did not sleep much during the twenty-hour trip. The reality of what I was doing started to gnaw at me. Finally once again, the Bangkok night air was in my lungs. This time, the excitement I usually felt also came with an unexpected shudder.
    After checking into the Honey Hotel, I caught a tuk tuk to Soi 18. The gate-cum-door of Lek’s place was ajar, so I walked in and there was Joom standing by the huge rainwater jar pouring water over his head from a plastic bowl. Before the impact of deja vu dissipated, he looked up and invited me into his small room that had a less than level floor covered with newer looking roll vinyl. There were two small beds in opposite corners covered with mosquito nets and separated by a tiny window. A little fan stirred the humid air in the flickering candlelight. Joom’s wife reclined on one of the beds. Joom asked her to fetch us something to drink and she scurried away.
    Arrangements to buy heroin were made and front money exchanged hands. It was much cheaper than I had expected. Only days later, I was in possession of a 350-gram plastic bag of Golden Triangle-produced heroin with a brand name emblazoned on it in red: Double UOGlobe. The logo was two rampant lions clutching a world globe. Back at the hotel, I poked a small hole in the plastic bag to let the air out, took a small taste and slid it under a heavy, flat-bottomed wardrobe in the hotel room
    Days later, I went to the Ho gemstone bourse and bought some gemstones, spending much more than I had spent on Double UOGlobe. The following week was spent engaging in R&R style activities.
    Soon, departure time was upon me. When I removed the plastic bag from under the wardrobe, it was as flat as a heavy piece of cardboard. I taped over the small hole, placed it on the bed, applied a thin layer of Super Glue around the edges of one side, and then lay down on it, which instantly affixed it to my back between my shoulder blades. I stood up and looked in the mirror, then chuckled morosely at the thought that I was now literally stuck to this proposition. The phrase “monkey on my back” came to mind.
    I swallowed a Valium just before getting to the airport. It was starting to kick in as I got to the check-in counter and I was enjoying its calming effects while going through the entire boarding process. Sleeping during most of the flight which terminated in Dallas after short stopovers in Tokyo and Seattle, I tried unsuccessfully not to worry about the upcoming Customs check in Dallas. As the plane set down at Dallas-Fort Worth airport, I downed my last Valium, which was helping stifle my anxiety by the time I collected my luggage and waited my turn for baggage inspection.
    Suddenly the realization that the contents of the plastic bag glued to my back had shifted became apparent to me. It felt like a big lump in the middle of my back. Standing as upright as possible, I laid the suitcase on the table in front of the Customs officer. He opened and inspected it, asking if I had been in Thailand on business or pleasure. “A little of both,” was my answer.
    He directed me to remove my sport coat. As I complied, I removed a thick padded manila envelope from my breast pocket and handed it to the Customs officer. “I am a gemstone courier and I need to have this parcel placed in bond for A.J. Fritz Customs Brokers,” I announced. He handed me my coat back and closed my suitcase.
    “Follow me,” he said.
    Throwing the sport coat over my shoulder (thus hiding the lump), I grabbed my bag and happily followed him to a counter where I