Dad and me Part 2

London, England
Next day
11AM

My dad let me in to his room after I knocked a couple of times. He was wearing his underwear with a wife beater t-shirt on. My father's body was like a map of Ireland. The poor oppressed part. His skin was as white as the belly of a fish. Freckles were scattered upon his torso and speckled their way down his arms and hands, with the added bonus of black hair on the knuckles.

He had skinny legs and he was knock kneed as well as the possessor of a sunken chest due to having rickets as a child. His face was from a different human being. One who starred in movies with the wavy black hair of Tyrone Power and the bone structure of Gregory Peck. His good looks followed him everywhere and I suspect they were as responsible for his early corporate success as much as his business acumen. Perhaps more.

No plane ride was complete without a stewardess hitting on him, and this was in the time of flight attendants being really good looking. Handsome is the word the ladies used. He stood about 6'3" and was thin. In clothes he was as elegant as 'the duke of donuts' as his mother would say.

But enough. In today's story he is ironing his pants for our trip home with half of the hash. Using an admirable creativity he sewed in pockets to a heavy raincoat for the bricks of hash. We were taking six kilos so there was a total of 13.2 pounds to carry. He planned to wear the coat, counting on his straight appearance to see him through customs at the Canadian side. The year was 1974 and security was still lax, but airplane hijackings were becoming the rage, and this became important the next day.

I stood by and watched for a while but there was nothing I could add to the operation, and we did not spend much time talking. My Dad was not into sharing himself with his eldest so I went to my friend's flat where I stayed when in London and we shot heroin and smoked hash for the rest of the evening.

The plan to get the drugs home was set, and the profit would pay for bigger buys that would get the other half load home as well as much more and in a much safer way. This was a one shot deal.


Heathrow Airport
The next day
7AM.

My father and I did not travel to the airport together nor did we acknowledge each other as we got tickets etc.
My Dad brought a carry on suitcase and had on his overcoat that carried the drugs. I looked closely but he had done a good job and he had sealed them with vacumn and heat to beat the smell. We went through customs and lined up for security. I was behind him and it took him a while to catch my eye. When he had my attention he looked to the head of the line.

I craned around and my guts went cold. They were doing body searches on all the passengers. This was new and totally due to the recent rash of planes going to Cuba despite the wishes of almost all on board. I tried to figure out a way to get us both out and as I was doing this I saw him casually take off his raincoat and fold it. He then put down his carry-on, opened it and put the overcoat away, locking it up as he stood.

When he reached security I watched them run hands down his body, and the guard pointed to the suitcase.
With a smile my father handed it to him, and watched the guard open it up after laying it on the ground. My heart beat was in my lips.
The guard ran his hands under the stack of neatly folded clothes and then took out a wand that picks up metallic objects, poking it here and there in the bag.
Finished, he stood up and beckoned my father to move ahead.

On the Plane

Not a lot of memories of this flight. I had done a really good hit of heroin before I got on the flight. More than enough to hold me until I got home. I do have one clear recall however.

The pilot came on the intercom and told us we were currently flying over Greenland, and it being a rare clear day we might get a good look at this remote world if we chose. My father was on the side of the plane where the sights were to be seen, and I was watching him looking out the window when he suddenly turned to me. There was a moment, just a short one you bet, where we looked at each other with the knowledge of what we were doing between us.

He smiled his white smile and then he winked at me. My father winked! My father winked at me, his son. Two things for me to relate. First of all, he was really enjoying himself. My Dad's favorite song was "Secret Agent Man" by Johnny Rivers and it was the theme to a TV show starring another Irish guy named Patrick McGoohan. I learned something about men and my Dad that day.

The second thing is harder to admit. Iwas so moved by him winking at me. I ached for his approval and it was such a big ache I thought it was normal life. What I learned was how fragile we sons are and how we will wait through beatings, shaming, negect and parental jealousy just to get a smile and wink. Oh my. Drug smuggling with Dad was to be my top close Daddy moment.

Winnepeg Airport
Same day

The landing was uneventful and we both went to different customs lines. We had tried to plan arriving at the same time in front of agents but I came in a bit before him.

By this time in my life I had a record in Canada as well as an Interpol record in Europe. To say the agents were interested in me is an understatement. They had a party tearing my stuff apart. As I stood by I watched my Dad, who had picked out a middle-aged female officer , go through his customs with a charming smile on his face and a hopeful one on her's.

As they led me away to be strip searched I watched him walk by me no more than ten feet away. He looked over and gave my group a look, but no more than slight curiosity. While the agents put on their rubber gloves I swelled with pride for my Dad and for my role in getting the business started.

"Bend Over" the agent said to me. I wondered if it was going to be good for him too.