Hundred buck buy you

hundred bucks to keep her quiet, and sent her on her way. Everything seemed to be going smoothly when I met Brent and  his fiancee at the Bangkok Hilton. I gave them the heroin—filled  cans, two can returned to San Francisco the day after me and breezed through  5 each, concealed in separate toiletry bags. They  U.S. Customs. Unfortunately, my return to Honolulu wasn‘t as uneventful.  My last run had been in 1979, when I gave the mahu Fed the slip. While waiting for Brent, I re—acquired a heroin habit. To avoid a jones in route, I concealed a gram of heroin into the inside seam of my wallet. My wallet had never been searched in the past. and I didn’t think they’d bother me after eight years. Instead of an aisle seat as I was assured, I got a window seat, and spent the entire flight stuck on the inside, blocked by a weird couple. Next to me was a Burmese lady who could’ve been a hand grenade juggle-r from the Rangoon circus. She had stubs for hands. A thumb and baby finger protruded from her tight stub, and her left hand was a finger less fist. Her haole boyfriend couldn’t have been weirder. He had a gross pale face, with an ogle of perversion written on it. A match made in hell, they drank obsessively when we took off, and then slept the rest of the flight. Whenever I needed to use the rcstrtxini, Iliad to climb over them. To overcome the monotony of my flight. Iflmsumed a generous amount of heroin in the restroom.  When I entered U.S. (lustotns in Honolulu, I was itnmediately Men to secondary. I was strip-searched, my wallet was ehuked, arid ""'”3"VI1iI1g that I purchased in Thailand “as .\'-r.i_ved. The)‘ did“ find the gram in my wallet. Ironically, the