I left you dangling (tantalizingly, I hope), about my imagination. Anyone who has suffered through one of my stories will assure you that I watch too many movies and read too many mysteries. It’s true, I admit it. An example, a few years ago I would wait for my commuter bus outside a convenience store and an apartment complex that rented suites by the day or week, very transient tenancy. One particular day I noticed a police officer enter the building and as he did so he was drawing on gloves. Well, it was July and very hot outside so I wondered about these gloves. I decided it would be prudent of me to move away from the doors because I was sure he was either a “dirty cop” or he was going to bust someone in the building and there could be shooting. I didn’t want to be in the line of fire. Yes, just a little thing like putting on gloves in July can make me envision a scene of murder and mayhem.
Setting the stage on what my brain is like – well, here I am going down to Ecuador. I’ve mentioned that my mother is all stressed out that I am going to South America, the continent known for political instability and drug lords. So after a while I have let her dire warnings sink into my head. This past weekend as I was packing my suitcase I noticed that the back of my rolling suitcase had a tear in the fabric so I whipped out man’s favorite tool, duct tape, and began repairing it. Naturally, as I did so I got to think that this was a convenient way for some drug lord to smuggle his cocaine into the country. There I would be at Canada customs with who knows how much cocaine – it would be put there by the suitcase handlers at the airport (isn’t that how it’s done?). I got myself quite worried about it but then I thought that surely it couldn’t be done that way, it would have to be done while you were in the airport lounge or some such way, not by the suitcase handlers. So I decided I was being paranoid.
Apparently not so much. Driving in to work yesterday morning, what was the news d’ jour? A Toronto woman had been travelling in Peru and got arrested at the airport for smuggling in cocaine. Her story was “they made me do it. I was frightened into doing it.” Oiy. Now I start worrying again. Am I going to be a drug mule? Imagination running rampant with all kinds of scenarios. This is a story I better not tell to my mother, she won’t be able to sleep for the next 6 weeks until I am safely home again.
Who knew planning a tropical trip would involve drug lords, drug sniffing canines and dubious duct tape repairs?
That rope might come in handy, like maybe for hanging yourself or someone else (a druglord perhaps)
ReplyDeleteYour creative mind can lead you down a scary path, Sanne. I think you need to whip out the logic region of your brain and just be smart n' safe on this trip. The hardest thing will be not to let your guard down over the course of five weeks. Just be street smart! :-)
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