The day started bright and early. An officer who looked like he hadn't slept in two days walked into my cell and woke me up.
Get up, sunshine, he sneered.
I groaned and rolled over.
Ready to go? he asked.
I guess, I replied, half-heartedly. Wait a minute, sir, I said respectfully.
He acknowledged me and I continued.
What'll happen to my friends?
There was that word again. Friends. Were they really my friends? As far as I concerned, they prevented me from drinking more. And that pissed me off.
Well, he took a deep breath. The ones not growing cannabis will be released this morning. He looked around nervously before continuing. The one that was growing cannabis. Well, he has a bit of a record. He trailed off.
What's going to happen?
He's going on trial for a robbery he committed a couple of years ago. This is the guy we were looking for. For a while. A couple of years.
I felt my throat close. I choked up. I liked Schultz. It couldn't have been him. No. Not him. He wouldn't hurt a fly. Or rob anyone. Ever.
When's the trial? was the only thing I could muster.
There's a long line of people waiting for their trial. I'd say that if he was lucky, LUCKY, it'd take a couple months. But, enough about this, let's get you to your flight.
I reluctantly got up and followed him out. We got to the door and I was stopped and cuffed. Another cop grabbed my belongings and followed close behind. I was put into an unmarked cruiser and we slowly began to drive to the airport. Rather than going to Heathrow, we went to a small little airport about a mile away. It would've been impossible to find if you weren't looking for some sort of opening. The car stopped and the two cops got out. I checked the time on the dash. 5:30. One of the cops opened the door and helped me out.
Sir? I asked.
When does the sun rise today?
The other cop looked up abruptly and replied In exactly two minutes.
If you wouldn't mind, could we stand here and watch it?
The cops exchanged a glance.
If you'd like, one of them said.
So we sat there and watched the sun slowly rise. It reminded me of home. I was going home. I wondered what my parents would think. My legal guardians, I should say.
One cop turned to me and said Let's go.
I followed behind him and we pushed through a door into the small building. I was put through a metal detector and we walked to a large glass door that had a view of the runway. Here, someone briskly walked over and grabbed my luggage. The cops nodded good-bye and one walked back out through a side door. The other one opened the door and motioned for me to come forward. After I walked through he dropped the door and walked in front of me.
Follow me, he said without turning around to face me.
There was really only one plane insight, so it was natural that he led me towards it.
In you go, he said, and pointed me towards a seat near the back. The plan was small. It was almost comfortable. I settled in on the window seat and stared out the window reflecting on what had just happened in the last couple of years.
I couldn't believe what I had turned into. I was a drunk, guitar playing stoner. I didn't have any friends and had ended up selling someone I liked out. I was being deported from the country of England. Just then, two other men were brought on board in similar fashion as I was. They were pointed towards their seats and just then the plane started. Two cops had taken front row seats and were quietly discussing soccer. Excuse me, football. I leaned back in my chair and got comfortable. I closed my eyes and slowly drifted to sleep. At the most bizarre time of the flight. Right before take off. I was out cold.
I awoke to the sounds off the pilot asking for us to put our seatbelts on and our trays up. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I looked for a clock but couldn't find one. I returned to staring out the window. I watched the graceful, if you could call it that, dissent towards the ground. We touched down bumpy, but without a problem. As we came to a stop, the two cops stood up and came to the back.
Are you ready Mr. Crise?
Edgar! one of them called.
Just then, one of the pilots walked out of the cockpit.
Keep an eye on the other two.
Edgar walked towards the front and stood at attention. The two cops helped me up and frog marched me out of the plane and down the ramp. There was a car waiting for me. It was painted in white and black checks. The door was open and the cops walked me over to the door and sat me down.
I trust you'll cooperate with them from here, said one of them.
Yes, I will sir.
Very well. If you stay out of trouble then we can just let this drop. Of course, one little slip and you're not allowed in England for the next ten years.
Good-bye Mr. Crise. By the way, you have a beautiful guitar. Try taking better care of it.
I turned red.
With that, they turned on their heels and walked away towards the plane.
Let me just say that driving from JFK Airport to Olympia, Washington is one bad f--king idea. Guess what? I had to endure that. Listening to a good day-and-a-half's worth of f--king country music. WHY ME? WHY ME? Anyway. We got there around midday on Monday. My mom should've been home. The cops pulled up and stopped the car. Then one of them got out un-cuffed me and handed me my belongings. They then walked me to the front door and walked back to their car.
That's it son, one of them said with a slight southern drawl.
You're just letting me off the hook?
Best be a good lil' boy now, ya hear? And with that, they drove off.
I hadn't been home in a good long time. I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
This is where it gets interesting, folks.