==A miserable endeavor, indeed! What have I agreed to? To end up in this God-Forsaken hell-hole. A stifling atmosphere that eats deep into your soul. Harvest time comes but once a year, so until all the poppies are sliced and diced, here I'll be. I do have to say, that being a aficionado of spectacular sunsets. the Sonoran Desert has more than its share. The unbearable heat, though takes something away from the pleasure of watching the sinking sun.
How I came to be here, a hundred miles into Mexico, is still not totally clear as to the circumstances. What I remember is faded some what, and all attributed to over indulgence of the spirits. I was minding my own business down in Florida and my very good friend, Chivo Ortiz, stopped by for a visit. I knew right away that this would not turn out well. Chivo likes his drinking, and a hard one to match in that category. Me, being the 'Macho Man', I have portrayed throughout my life, had at least to attempt an even match. I would think, it was only after two days, I can't be sure, Chivo offered me a chance to make a really good score. I can't say how I answered, but I am now in Sonora Mexico just north of Hermosilla. The trip here was a blur and I can't keep from wondering, why we are not in jail, our driving could not have been up to snuff. I do remember El Paso Texas. and Chivo's brother-in-law saying it might not be a good move taking a Gringo to the fields. Chivo assured him that I was what I was, and had no aspirations of making a bust. He made it plain that he would not be held responsible if this didn't go as planned.
As each day passes and I sit in the same spot every night to watch my beloved sunsets, I ask myself,"Is this adventurous life I am trying to lead, all its made out to be?" One day I will die somewhere and no family to mourn me, and most likely no grave to mark my passing. The good side would be,no-one will shed a tear, if they never know. I feel better now.
I will rise in the morning and start my daily routine and dream of my upcoming wealth that soon will be mine. I start at one row and walk backwards slicing the pods vertcally so the opium gum can seep out. The opium gum oozes out during the day, and the hardened gum is collected in the evening. The Campesinos have to remind me often to always go backwards. The opium gum can seep through your clothes and it is possible to receive a lethal dose by the end of the row. The gum is processed into heroin with little more than charcoal fires and a few pots. Someone with very limited experience can make heroin in as little as twelve hours. Chivo tells me our share will be 4 kilos, and at $60,000 a kilo I'll stick it out.
Three days at a field and we move to the next, never stay in one place to long. The rows not harvested are marked for our return, but moving like a thief in the night is the norm for the campesinos of the poppy trade. Each field is cleverly matched to the local landscape and I do not see them until they are pointed out. Yellow and orange bulbs of the 'papaver somniferum' (opium poppy) a man would think stand out like a sore thumb, but surely not the case. Watchouts are stationed on near-by hills with radios as they watch for the 'Federales'. We have encountered several helicopters doing a fly-over and nerves go out to the edge of the abyss. Everyone carries a camo tarp to cover with, until the radio man gives the all clear. Chivo tells me, this is a big organization and we shouldn't have to much heat, unless someone gets greedy. That is great news!, everyone I know who uses drugs gets greedy.
Even myself, am starting to feel that greed, some. The harvest is almost finished and we have a load of gum. Dreams of moving back to St. Croix dancing in my head. Just spending some lazy days on the beach, WOW! I intend to keep watch on any night time movement, somehow, this is too good to be true. I have to trust Chivo though, good friends a long time and all that.
Then the sky falls down on us, when the military trucks appear on the ridge. While I am wondering what is going down, I notice that all my compadres are running full bore in the opposite direction. That must mean run! Where? Oh Shit! I am figuring I have about a mile headstart, but I am on foot and they are trucking it. I am not comfortable with the thought of a Mexican Prison. They just don't make them like America.
I chose the least traveled route, thinking that the force would chase the majority. I headed for a grove of Joshua trees and didn't look behind me. I figured I had 5 minutes to get somewhere to hide. I have discovered that these work boots weren't made for the "Boston Marathon", but they may help me not break my ankle.It's an hour until dark, maybe I can pull this off. I am hearing shots fired off in the south. Oh man!, lots of them! Run! Run! Run!
I have found an arroyo and I don't think the trucks operate in here. I need a place to hide until dark and try to get my heart back in the place it belongs, it seems to be stuck in my throat right now. Getting my 'wits' about me is a priority. I am pretty sure that everyone headed towards the little town and that may be the reason I haven't seen any enemy combatants this way. I might just be walking into 'Hell'. I don't know. I do know I haven't been shot at going this way. That has to be a 'plus'.
My first night out was following the north star, and trying to walk in a straight line. When I felt that I was 20 miles from the field, did I finally try to catch a nap. I am beat, this is ungodly country to traverse at night. A full moon would be a godsend. Questions I have now,how far to the border?, what about water?, maybe a bite to eat? The cold is almost unbearable at night and my clothes are behind me. I am not inclined to go back for them.Its one step at a time from here on.
Four days have passed since that day at the field and I think I may have covered 100 miles, and how much more lies ahead, I don't know. I ran across some farms and begged up some water and a couple tacos. I have always heard, don't drink the water, that does not apply in this situation. Other things I have learned so far, don't sleep without your shoes. Scorpions seem to prefer to sleep inside shoes. The first time I used my shoes for a pillow, taught me that. I was just lucky I shook the sand out in the morning. My shoes don't come off any more unless I am shaking the sand out.
I am into my fifth day and I feel like I should be close to the border, and hoping to cross without a problem. Border Patrol may not understand why an American is sneaking into his own country. A lot of questions would follow. My arm is swollen really bad from getting to close to a Cholla cactus, they don't call them the 'Jumping Cactus' for nothing. My arm is all festered and seeping pus, and turning a rainbow of colors. What else could go wrong, I would find out shortly. I stopped to rest and leaned against a hill and did not realize I was sharing my shade with a rattlesnake. He let me know real quick, that I wasn't welcome. He popped me on the leg, just below the knee, before I knew he was there. Now, my problems are compounded, more than I would wish. I know that it was not a fatal bite, these aren't the boogers we have in Florida. I can expect a really uncomfortable journey from here on out. The sickness that I am going through is nothing like I have ever experienced before and I do not know if it was the snake or the cactus. Each are equally poisoness. But there is always a little humor in everything, if you look for it. I must say, I had to laugh at my situation, crossing the desert with my left arm swelled up the size of a watermelon, and my right leg twice that size. If someone seen me, what would they think?
My mind is starting its own war with my sanity and at times I think I am losing. I am seeing things that don't exist and I keep catching myself talking to someone who isn't there. Could this be what death is like or have I just started down the corridor to the entrance? I would like to lay down, but I have made up my mind, not to die in this god-forsaken third world country. My throat is so swollen that it is hard to get air through it. Each breath is a struggle, each step is a struggle, I need water! Come on!, don't lose it now!
I have found the U.S. border and I am crossing in broad daylight, hoping I get caught. I'll answer all their questions in the hospital. As luck would have it, I crossed the fence without a problem. Now, to find water and a place to lay down. If I wake up, okay!, if not, that's okay too!
I think I have found heaven now, I am walking through farmlands out here in the hard core desert. I must be somewhere near the Colorado River, I know they don't get enough rain around here to produce these kind of farms. I am walking along side of Barry Goldwater Airforce Base to my right side and lush green farms on my left. There are water jugs placed every other road and I am going to get me one! Some may call it stealing, but I am thinking survival. I'll start looking for a place to take a nap and the prospects do not look good. I have to figure out where the hell I am and then I can make my next stupid decision. God Bless America!

The Runaway Train to Hell!

Does curiosity really kill the cat? A question I cannot answer with certainty, but this I know, it does get the cat in some awful messes. Just using myself as a prime example, I can attest to the fact that trouble lies in store for the curious. I wonder, would the cat fare any better, were he inebriated? I acknowledge in my personal journey, curious behavior can be a curse. Yes, curiosity can kill the cat.

I awoke this morning to a day not unlike any other. My new job is a Godsend, and I am already positioned at the top. Life is good! The day followed the routine of any other, everyone performed their assigned tasks and no complaints. Just your typical day at work. After such an uneventful day. It's Miller Time! I decided to sojourn the local pub. This would make the day complete.

Now, through the years I have committed unwise actions that I have regretted later. But, I have considered myself not unintelligent. I have always thought I had a pretty square head on my shoulders. My only excuse for the quagmire that I am about to embark on, can only be blamed on the spirits of the pub. I am not referring to ghost and goblin spirits, either. But, the spirits that are served ice-cold in a 16oz. draught. Whatever could I have been thinking?

It is almost dark and time to get out of here. I got a six-pack to go and bid my farewell to all. I have the only keys to the job and I do not want anything to go wrong. While crossing the train tracks, my wild side appeared out of nowhere."I would like to ride that train, as I have never road the rails before" says I. Common sense has surely escaped me for the moment. But, in my defense, I only wanted to catch a ride 5 miles down the track. I was thinking that I should stop by another pub, that I frequent, but not for months have I been there. I'll just jump off and have a drink or two with some old acquaintances, then catch a cab back home. Seems like a plan, that doesn't have any hidden glitches. As I consider this undertaking, I can't see either end of this train. No beginning and no end. That made up my mind. It couldn't be going very fast in a few miles.

As I settled in to wait for my ride to start, I thought about how great it must have been to be a Hobo, in the early part of the 20th century. It had to be exciting to be in a different place everyday. I wouldn't think all the begging and pilfering were much fun. I have to deduce that is what the times of the moment called for. What a erratic life they lived. Now, I will experience a somewhat shorter version , as the train is starting to move forward.
As the train starts to pick up some speed and my adrenaline is flowing like the Mississippi River. This was an ultimate rush that, honestly, liked. But the shortness of the ride was disappointing. Little did I understand how this worked. In the old Oater movies, the bad guys just jumped from the train and escaped. As I neared my departure target, this train seems to be moving really fast. I glanced at the rocks and debris passing by and I did not want to jump down there. That, I knew, would be a bone-crushing landing, if not a deadly one. The next big town is twenty more miles and this locomotive will surely stop there.
I am doing some quick math in my head as this monster that has captured me rolls on. I boarded in Hallandale, to disembark in Hollywood, now to find a way back from Fort Lauderdale. If need be, I can walk back to the job in 12 hours easy enough in time to open the doors. It doesn't appeal to me much, but I'll do what I have to do to keep this job. I ask myself,"Why I would do something so juvenile?"
We are barreling through Dania now and I see no attempt at this guy slowing down, but I have no inkling how trains work. I'll have to trust the engineer to do his job. I can now see all the bright lights of my destination, but something is not right! I am not believing what just happened. We rolled through Fort Lauderdale and the lights were just a blur. We are traveling at least 60 MPH. I see a total panic attack on the horizon and no way to prevent it. Begging will not stop the forward momentum, but I'll try. Please, Please stop this nightmare!
I am in full-mode hysteria now as I realize the next stop will probably be in West Palm Beach. That would leave me with only 100 miles to recover backwards before 7:30 in the morning. My mind is racing and searching all of its gray-matter for a solution, and nothing. Maybe I can get a Greyhoundgoing south. All avenues are being considered here. It can't get any worse than this, can it? The answer just went by in a flash as West Palm Beach is disappearing behind me and my iron captor. I have to jump, I have to relieve myself of this locomotive monster.
Its come to this now, my job is gone, and I need to start making other plans for my future. Or I can still make one attempt to save myself from this self-defeat. If I can possibly get to the engine, I can get this runaway mustang stopped. Even if its just for the engineer to call the authorities on me. I'll give it my best shot!
That idea was a bust, as I moved from car to car, each filled with dirt, I could not see the trains engine within a mile of where I was. I could not see the caboose either. Back to my math, I think this train is over miles in length and loaded to travel far. All these cars of dirt, where could they be bound for? Up north, maybe? I have no reason to believe that this much dirt is needed in Florida. There is an abundance of it here. The only big town left, that would seem like a stopping point would be Jacksonville, which would be just before leaving Florida. I'll make a sacred oath right here and now,"I'll vow to never ride a train again!"
I have been a captive of this monstrous demon four hours and Have given up on any cape attempts. Its not like another place of employment doesn't exist. I shall make it through this, I am hoping. If I didn't just imagine this, we are slowing down, but where? Do I jump? Do I wait until a full and complete stop, possibly in a town? I'll just play it by ear, and see what else is included in my nightmare. A full stop, in what appears to be a fairly large town, but which town? I decide on departure, what is there to lose.
I walk away from those tracks and I remember the promise I made to myself, but , which will not count if I see one in the next couple of hours heading south. The problem with that is it has to stop here, and then proceed south. I would not attempt a boarding of a moving mountain of steel. A store by the tracks is a good place to disembark, now to find out which world I have landed my spaceship on. I am in FortPierce, about 150 miles from work, or work that I use to have. I got me a cup of coffe and a newspaper, and started preparing myself to hunt a job when the sun shows its face.
As I sit here outside this store contemplating the last 10 years of my life, and realizing that I have had some really good oppertunities that I wasn't interested in. It is just so ironic, that this time I planned to get back to the top. Okay, stop feeling sorry for yourself and proceed with your ambitions right here in Fort Pierce. That is the best advice I can give myself, considering my position. I do feel really alone , though.
It is 2:00 in the morning and a car pulls into the store and the driver approaches me and ask for 50 cents, oh boy!, this is definately not the land of oppertunity. I obliged and he went into the store with his new found wealth. He struck up a conversation when he came back. We talked about my experience with the train and he said he was headed for Miami. If I bought him some crack, he would be glad to take me south. I have nothing to lose now, why not? I didn't much care about riding to crack town to buy drugs, and me not knowing where I am located. But, everything went according to plan and he got his fix. He had a freind with him, that did not talk much. Maybe he was as uncomfortable as I was. I was asked if I would drive while they hit their pipe, okay no problem. At I-95 i took the wheel and they did there thing. A funny thing happened then, they just passed out completely. I just kept driving, not knowing or caring what happened when they woke up.
I pulled up to my place of employment at 5:45 in the morning and all that begging the "Gods of Olympus" paid off. I went inside and locked the door behind me, to deter my new found freinds from finding me. I could not sleep because of the ordeal I had been through, plus the thought that this can't be happening.What I learned from this is "Curiosity surely can and sometimes does, kill the cat"