Hundred buck to keep her quiet

hundred bucks to keep her quiet, and sent her on her wa Everything seemed to be going smoothly when I met ilirent  his fiancée at the Bangkok Hilton. I gave them the her<)in—fil1]:: Cans, two cans each, concealed in separate toiletry bags. The returned to San Francisco the day after me and breezed throng: 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 juggler from the Rangoon circus. She had stubs for hands. A thumb and baby finger protruded from her right 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 restroom, Iliad to climb over them. To overcome the monoton)’ Of my flight’  lC0nsumed a generous amount of heroin in the restroom.  When I entered U.S. Customs in Honolulu, I was immediatelf “ken to secondary. I was strip-searched, my wallet was checked, and °"°FYthing that I purchased in Thailand was X-f3Yed- They didnit find the gram in my wallet. Ironically, the Customs agent  that . Searched me was from Kailua.