The Day Of….

Published on July 20, 2009 by E Aude   ·   No Comments

Rai’s contacts came to my hotel that morning about an hour before my flight was to leave.  I had been sick and counting the minutes till it was time to go.  They brought the suitcase up to my room so that I could confirm that all the clothing was checked and accounted for.  Looking back, that was a major tale that something was wrong.  The other trips I had gone on, I would be used to carry two suitcases full of leather clothing.  This time it was only one.

I called Rai to ask him if this was correct and let him know that everything looked in good condition.   All was fine as far as he was concerned.  As I was rushed to the airport, talking with his contacts with promises that the next trip would be way better, i humored them as if I would ever return to that country.

The airport was very busy that morning, and I was directed to the customs checkpoint immediately.  There was a long line of locals. All short.  I stood out quite a bit.  The average person came up to my shoulders.  A customs officer waved me to the front of the long line.  Sometimes it pays to be tall.

While opening my suitcase I was asked a simple question.  “Business or Pleasure”  from which I responded. “Pleasure is my business.”  Hard to believe, but I did not get a laugh.  He didn’t seem to care about my suitcase and was fine with everything.  I was told to pack it up.  As I was about to go through the metal detectors, another customs agent, this one dressed in a suit, came up and grabbed my arm.  “Are you carrying narcotics?”  I simply replied, “Check it again.”

My suitcase that Rai’s contacts gave me was opened and poured out onto the table.  They escorted me to one room, and took the empty suitcase to another.  The whole time I was thinking to myself that they better get me a new suitcase if they destroy that one.  Alot of time went by, and I was worried about missing my flight.

The customs officer came back into the room holding two thin square sealed packaged.  Either green or brownish.  My memories fucking with me.  He asked me what it was.  I told him “You’re holding it.”  He said “This is ophium” (That’s how they say it in Pakistan) I responded “Why are you showing me this?”  He simply said “It came out of your suitcase.”  Like a ton of bricks dropping on me, I realized exactly what I was being used to do.  I felt so unbelieveably stupid.

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