Mathematics was never my strong suit. Even though my father was a mathematics professor, in Algebra and Calculus, I had challenges getting excited or even focusing on the extended variable equations that were required for advanced mathematic processes.
Soon after my graduation from High School, I had saved enough money to go see my older sister Sue and Will, who by this time was her husband. They were living overseas just outside of London, where Will was stationed in the Air Force. Will had just returned from Vietnam a decorated pilot. He had flown 217 missions and was eventually awarded the Distinguished Flying Cross for "Professional Competence, Aerial Skill and Devotion to Duty". As active military service personnel, Will and Sue lived on base outside of London. As a bit of a rite of passage, I took action to ensure that I made the trip to Europe. It was an extremely blessed time to be a young American in the world. Backpacking young people were travelling all over the world and the hostels on the European continent led me from my home base with Will and Sue all over the European continent and eventually down to Morocco. (But that’s another story…)
By the time I returned to the states, it was time to start thinking about what I was going do. Fortunately, I drew a really high number in the draft for Vietnam and was spared from the war. While I watched a handful of good friends trod off to war never to return the same, or even at all, I was blessed with the opportunity to either start a career, most likely in the marine industry, or to go to college. I had worked my entire young life through High School as an apprentice to one of my hometown’s most respected yacht builders and with that experience under my belt, I decided that I should maybe go try my hand at college studies. I guess I figured that I could always return to the marine industry and start work there if I needed to once I was out of College.
I had started classes and had a couple challenging subjects to study for, including advanced Algebra, which was continuing to give me challenges. I clearly recall a very cool evening in late fall as a mid semester comprehensive exam approached. I decided that if I was going to go after a college degree, that I had to give 100% of myself in order to be the best that I possibly could. Unfortunately, being 18 in 1970 wasn’t the most conducive environment to buckling down and studying for a degree.
I can clearly remember thinking, ‘Why am I doing this? When will I ever need to do this equation to make money in life?’ I was conflicted. I didn’t know what I was going to do with my life. All I knew was that on this night I had to get some studying finished in front of this exam or I was going to fail my mid-term.
My house was typical of the southern beach town where my family lived. The home was one story, with an open living and family room that looked out onto the bay. Behind the house, my small boat swayed gently with the rise and fall of the tides, while the family cat scampered about waiting for the stray fish to be thrown her way.
My parents lived on the opposite side of the house, while my younger sister Tallulah and I shared the south end. On this particular night, I heard chatter from the other room as my sister and her boyfriend quietly argued about something. I tried in vain not to allow the chatter to break my concentration on my studies. As I looked back down at the foreign language that was my algebra studies, I tried to focus back in to the task at hand.
Just then, my sister and her boyfriend RJ, burst through my door with big smiles on their faces. It was easy to tell that something mischievous was about from the expression that they both flashed in my direction.
“Hey, what you doing?”, RJ asked as I took my concentration away yet again from my book.
“I’m studying man, got a mid-term on Friday. Sorry man, I’m busy.” I told RJ as the smile melted from his face and morphed into a frustrated frown.
“That’s too bad, I thought maybe you would want to make a few dollars tonight.” RJ responded, brightly reviving the smile that had so quickly faded from his face.
RJ was quite a character. He was a fun guy, but very intense. He was a bit older than me and a bit crazy at times. I knew that somehow he was involved in the local “Pot” business as he always had a lot of really good reefer and he always had a lot of cash money around. His comment more than peaked my interest as I quickly disregarded any commitment that I made to myself to get my studying finished.
“Why, what do you have in mind?” I queried as I tried to figure out what could possibly be going on that RJ would need my help.
RJ responded with what was to be opportunity knocking at my door. “I got a fresh load of Jamaican pot coming in tonight, but don’t have anyone to help me off load my share from the boats, if you can help, I’ll pay you and give you a good amount of pot for yourself.” RJ told me with a grin.
At this point, hesitation was out the window. I was sitting inside studying for what seemed like the most useless subject of all time. At my door, opportunity was knocking, both literally and figuratively. I decided it was time to get up and go for it. There was no reason to wait for another minute. Here was an offer for the adventure and excitement that I was looking for, even if only for a night’s work.
I didn’t know it at the time but my response to RJ’s offer would be a critical junction in my life. Had I refused RJ’s offer to help with the load that night and continued studying it is very likely that my life and the lives of many others would have turned out completely different.
“Ok, I’m in, I’ll go help you.” I told RJ.
“Perfect! Just meet me out front in like five minutes.”
“Ok, one thing…” I asked in curiosity. “Where are we headed man, it’s a bit cold outside.”
“Oh…” RJ responded. “We’re heading down to the bridge to wait for a boat to come in to shore. We’ll meet them right by the causeway entrance.”
“If we are going to be waiting for long, we may want to take fishing poles with us so it looks like we are there for a purpose and not just sitting around.” I mentioned to RJ.
“Good idea kid!” RJ sniped back. “Grab the poles and then hurry out front.”
With that, it was off into the unknown. I was a bit tentative at first but decided that it was time to go forth and let events unfold. I grabbed a heavy coat out of my small closet and grabbed my fishing boots and poles in the event that I would have to do some wading up to the boat.
Once inside the van with RJ, my heart started pumping. He explained that I shouldn’t speak to any of the guys on the boat because anonymity was well respected amongst the group of guys he was working with. He told me that the men on the off load boat would have just come from an offshore mothership that was laden with ganja, and that it was likely that the men would have ski masks on to help conceal their identity. In response I told RJ that that scenario was fine with me as I only intended to help him this one time.
As we approached the off load site, fear began to creep into my conscious mind. ‘What am I doing?’ I thought as we got closer. Hesitation began to creep into my mind a bit as I pondered all the possible outcomes of this situation, including those that were not so nice to have floating around in your mind.
Finally, the van that we were in came to a stop and RJ turned to tell me that this is where we would be waiting for a while. I jumped out of the van and went to the back to get the fishing poles out. In retrospect it is a good thing I took the poles, because in the end we waited for the boat for almost two hours. Then suddenly on the distant horizon, I made out what looked like a spotlight beaming on and off in sporadic patterns.
“Hey, There’s a light shining over there, you think that’s them?” I asked as I jumped up to grab the flashlight.
“Yeah, that’s the boys,” RJ said as he handed me a light. “shine that light towards where you saw the boat. Let’s get them over here quickly.”
As the boat approached us closer and closer, I must admit that I was rather nervous. Having grown up around boats my whole life, I recognized the boat that approached us as an approximately 25 foot mullet boat. Friends of mine had used these boats our entre childhood to catch loads of mullet using a “gill net”. The gill nets would surround a large school of mullet and in a single scoop could net a very big profit for the fisherman.
As the boat got closer, I made out the silhouette of two men on the boat. One on the bow and one back towards the stern. Normally the stern of a gill netting boat would have a flat area where the net could be put out easily. On this night I noticed that this same area was now loaded and covered with a canvas to protect whatever the contents were on the stern.
As the boat approached I remembered what RJ had told me and made it a point not to look directly at the men on the boat. As the small craft got closer and I began to ready myself for the lines that the man on the deck was about to throw to me I heard a familiar voice.
“Skip?!?! What are you doing here man???”
I looked up to the bow of the boat and instantly recognized the two guys as two of my friends from High School and the beach, Tom and Gerry. As they pulled the boat up at the landing, and I grabbed the rope, the two guys jumped off the boat and came over to me before even acknowledging RJ. I looked over to where RJ was standing and he had a look of total disbelief as I began to chat with my two old buddies.
I introduced the boys to RJ, and quickly the process of unloading began. RJ jumped into the van and backed it right to where the boat was located. Before I knew it I was in the boat with my buddy Tom and he was uncovering the bales of fresh ganja that were beneath the canvas cover. Instantly, the first thing that was noticeable was the smell of the fresh buds. It was over-powering, and as I picked up the first fifty pound bale to throw down to RJ, some of the sticky bud got on my fingers. It was like a pothead’s absolute biggest dream. More ganja than you could even think to smoke and all of it here in our hands.
Working quickly, the four of us loaded roughly 2,000 pounds of sweet, fresh, Jamaican ganja into the back of the van. With the unloading complete, we hurried to get out of there before anyone saw anything suspicious.
Before leaving the scene, my buddy Gerry yelled to me. “Skip give me a call. It’s crazy you were here. Good to see you man.”
“Same to you Gerry!” I shouted back to him as I jumped into the van and headed off towards our subsequent storage point.
Back inside the van, RJ was visibly perturbed. As he sped away with me in the passenger seat the fear in the air began to be a bit unbearable. At first, both of us were silent as we dealt with our own internal fears that were resonating from the load of ganja filling the back of our van.
Finally, RJ broke the uncomfortable silence.
“How did you know those two guys?” RJ asked. His temper was now a bit visible at how I could know his “connection”.
I explained that I had grown up with one of those guys in high school and on boats around the beach town. After that, RJ didn’t say much for the remainder of the trip. We arrived back at the house just after midnight that evening. As I jumped out of the van and ran around the van to say my goodbyes for the evening to RJ, he handed me ten fresh one hundred dollar bills. Seeing the money, I forgot about everything else and realized that I had made it back home safely.
Walking in my front door, my Dad greeted me. “Hey son, where have you been?” he asked.
“Oh Dad, hey what’s going on? I was out with RJ. I left after I finished my studying.” I told him with a grin.
"Ok Buddy" my Dad responded. "Sleep tight pal."
As I lay in my bed later that night I was thankful to have made it through the process safely, and excited by the fact that my friends were the ones that met us at the offload. I had no idea what was to come. Little did I know that the winds of change were beginning to blow.
