The continuing adventures of Sam...
The last time we left our friend Sam, he was enjoying a couple of tokes from some great British Columbian pot he had purchased on the internet. But for Sam the adventures never end...
Sam decided he needed a vacation. It was still cold and wet where he lived and he needed some sun. Sam and I discussed some options and he seemed really enthused about my recent trip to Ocho Rios Jamaica. We looked online and found some last minute deals and Sam was in business. He left that week for the tropical paradise.
When Sam got close to his destination. He remembered the reccomendation I had given him to look up a guy named "Ernest" at the resort. He knew Ernest was a bellman at the hotel and also ran a small sovenier stand near the beach. Other than that, Sam really didn't know much about him. He did know that about 20 people had offered to sell him some "ganja" since arriving at the airport.
Sam knew better than to trust anyone "on the street" as he had heard tales of rip offs and busts of American tourists in Jamaica. He decided to trust in my advice but was now starting to worry that he wouldn't be able to find this guy and he would be left to fending for himself in a strange land.
Sam arrived at the hotel and to his surprise, his bellman introduced himself.
"Hello and welcome! I am your bellman, Ernest. Whatever you need, I am the man to see!"
Sam was pleasantly shocked that he had run into Ernest by a stroke of luck. But he was still nervous to ask this stranger for some pot. Although he really could use a couple of tokes after the flight and 3 hour trek across the island on small, windy and sometimes quite dangerous roads.
Ernest repeated his offer. " Do you need a cold beer, some food, anything?"
Each time Ernest said anything, Sam heard "go ahead and ask me for some pot." Finally, Sam decided to take the insistant bellman up on his offer.
"How bout some ganja?" Sam asked. The answer took Sam a little aback as he was expecting a "yes or no" kind of answer from such a question.
"Do you have any papers?" asked Ernest without missing a beat.
Sam thought to himself and realized that indeed, no, he had no papers or pipe as he left all that back in the states. "I guess I don't have any papers, now that I think about it." Sam was actually a little embarrassed he wasn't prepared for this line of questioning. He was more used to ridiculing unprepared smokers who asked him for a paper back home. To which, he would get in one of his clever zingers like "do you want me to smoke it for you too?"
"O.K." Ernest fired back. "give me about 15 minutes and I will get you some good rolling papers and some fine ganja for your vacation here."
"Sure" were the only words Sam uttered after interpreting and processing what the short Jamacan native had said in his quick dialect.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like a cold beer or a bottle of Jamaican rum?" Ernest asked. It was obvious this guy knew a few things about customer service.
"No thanks, i'm not really a big drinker. Maybe some juice might be nice." Sam retorted as he slipped Ernest a few bucks for the effort of checking him in. Ernest then went off and Sam wondered if he would ever return. Although the bellman never asked for any money from him, so, even if he never returned, at least Sam felt good that he didn't get ripped off.
About 10 minutes later, Ernest knocked and came in and handed Sam a bag that easily weighed over an ounce. Probably close to an ounce and a half, but with no scale around, Sam was forced to use his experienced eye to guesstimate the amount. On that level, he was more than satisfied, but there was also the issue of price.
"How much do I owe ya?' Sam asked. Ernest of course, as an experienced Island haggler was going to feel Sam out. He started around the 100 dollar level. Sam quickly informed Ernest that he had been reccomended by a friend back in the states and heard the price was much cheaper. Immediately, Sam was offered and settled on a far lesser cost of 50 bucks, US.
Ernest and Sam spent several minutes talking about their mutual friend, me, back in the states, as Sam rolled up a fine doobie. Sam was impressed with this pot. It was different than the strains he saw back home, an indica strain where as sativas were much more common in his neck of the woods. It wasn't seedless like some of the high end hydroponic bud, like the stuff he bought online, but the seeds were few and this reefer was relatively "clean."
They stood out on the back porch and looked out into paradise as they smoked the joint. Ernest briefed Sam on the ettiquette expected down there. "Be discreet" he told him. "Don't act like it is legal, cops will bust you if you are out "waving it around. Outside of that, have a good time!" The 2 continued talking until Ernest was called back to duty by the hotel.
Sam enjoyed the pot throughout the week he spent in Jamaica. There was one problem though. Ernest had given him so much of it and since he had few people to share it with, just a few other guests and staff at the hotel that "seemed cool," he actually had too much pot. Not a typical problem for Sam.
On the last day of the trip, Sam decided that he couldn't just leave all of this behind. Indeed, throughout the week, he had just picked off the tops of the buds, the best part, and thrown as much as he could stomach over the rail as a sacrifice to "the ganja gods" as he put it. Still, there was over a 1/4 ounce left and Sam wasn't the type to just leave something like that behind.
Still, he was nervous. He knew he had to go through customs and had heard tales of dogs lining the airports in both Jamaica and at customs back home. Sam thought about what methods he could use to get it back. He almost instantly rejected his own ideas of slipping a couple of joints into his cigarettes. Surely, if anyone looked, he would get busted. Then there were those dogs, who Sam was sure would sniff him out.
Sam considered slipping the contraband down his pants. But the same detectability issues came up, tho he doubted a security officer would grab his crotch to find a joint. Then he got images of a german shepherd hanging by the teeth from his groin as he walked hand-cuffed through the airport. Sam realized this wasn't the way.
Next, Sam considered buying some of the local coffee offered all over Jamaica. He had heard about coffee being used by big time smugglers to get massive quantities through. But this seemed too obvious to Sam. Something they would automatically be on the lookout for. Plus, he only wanted to take a small amount back, a couple of grams...as a souvenier, if you will.
Sam remembered how he had gotten his personal stashes through airports. He wondered if that would be effective here. No one had ever even suspected his method before, and that included being spot checked and the officer even handling the continer he used.
What was that container? A simple solid deodorant stick. Like Old Spice solid or in this case, Speed Stick. Sam went to the bathroom and grabbed his deodorant and pondered. Then he began to pack his stash by preparing the container.
The 1st thing he did was use the bottle's "roller" mechanism to roll the deodorant all the way out of the tube. Being careful, to ensure that the fragile stick wouldn't break in half, he set it on the table and got a sharp knife out. He cut off about the bottom 1.5 inches from one side of the stick. He then took his "ganja" which he had tightly compressed by hand and wrapped it tightly in a plastic bag doing everything he could to get out any air in the bag. When he was done, he had about 3 grams pressed into a very compact "ball."
He then took that bag and wrapped that one in another one again pressing every bit of air out that he could. He then sealed the bag using the flame from his lighter. From there, he took the small parcel and coated it with deoderant that he had cut off. Surely, he found it necessary to do everything he could to allow the product to do what it did best naturally,,,deodorize.
He packed the contraband into the bottom of the plastic tube. From there, he carefully put the rest of the deodorant back in it's home. Then, after completing it, he applied some deodorant on himself and made sure a nice big black hair remained on the stick...just to gross anyone out who may be curious.
The next day, Sam packed the container in his bags, along with the rest of his hygiene products and headed back home.
When he got to the airport, the lines were long, about a 45 minute wait at each station (there were 2 before being allowed into the main part of the airport). From there, Sam proceeded to his gate and went through the usual stuff. Then Sam got a surprise that he hadn't counted on. He was called aside and a more thorough look into his luggage commenced.
Sam remained calm, at least on the outside as the agents went through his luggage. They took out the speed stick and put it aside, continuing to rummage through his stuff. After a few minutes, he was allowed to proceed. sam thanked the agents and wished them a nice day.
Sam looked around and chuckled to himself as he noticed that there were no dogs nearby...although he did spot a little cat out on the runway as he peered outside. He got on the plane and flew back into the US. He went through the usual customs stuff, without incident and then proceeded to the area where one gets their bags.
At the baggage claim, Sam noticed a lot of security people who seemed, at least to him, to be fanning out around him. At this point, it seemed to Sam that they were surrounding him.
" Was this how they'll get me?" Sam looked around at what appeared to be a forming dragnet for him. After about 15 minutes, the bags came tumbling off the ramp and were on the carousel. Sam watched as his luggage approach and wondered if when he grabbed his bag with the contraband, he would be pounced on by the authorities. He considered picking up all the other bags but that one and just walking away and going home. After all, he wouldn't lose much except some deoderant and some other replacable items.
The luggage came by, and Sam decided to take a chance and grabbed all his luggage from the carousel. He put the bags behind him and braced for impact.....nothing. The cops and guards, who before appeared to be surrounding him, now seemed more interested in talking with each other than actually doing any work in the field of security. Sam decided he wouldn't stick around to analyze the cop's job performance and headed out to his car and eventually home. There, he was greeted by the 1st dog he saw all day, his little puppy.
When Sam got back home, we sat down and Sam unwrapped his "souvenier" and we enjoyed a little smoke while we both reminisced about Jamaica and our main man Ernest.
And Sam was right,,,this "ganja" was good:)