Watermelon Roundup Run
Watermelon Round-up Run
"Hey man wake up. Dude we've got a problem. Santiago, God Damn it hear me? There's Border Patrol up ahead and they're searching every car!" His voice elevating to a higher pitch with each sentence. My over excited companion is Andy an acquaintance I met in Tucson. He's a nickelbag, quarter ounce small time dealer that for some reason enjoys people being familiar with his activity. It gives him a sense of self worth for others to know he is a "DEALER". Myself, I always made it clear and understood that I was not a dealer. Neither did I sell or wish to purchase any type of drug, narcotic, controlled substance in any form. It was a rare instance when I took part in consuming such substances in public. Sure, some had their suspicions but they never voiced them to me. That was just the way I liked it , always keep them guessing.
Now Andy, he had been asking ,begging, nagging and being a downright pain in the ass to accompany me on a “Run." If it wasn't for my ex-wife and her mouth of a thousand truths, he would have never known my vocation. However, when she doesn't get her way, and according to her is never, every bit of information that can be in anyway harmful to me, she spills. It doesn't matter where or in front of whom, she reveals privileged and damaging information. In one case Andy happened to be present during one of her ranting testimonials. Since then Andy has been a fucking pest. So I allowed him to join me on this mission to Culiacan, Mexico to pick up two hundred pounds of Marijuana, then back across the border loaded down.
I don't like these border runs but every once in a while you get chosen, asked, told by "El Jefe"(chief) to make this run as a favor. It does pay very well and usually a Border Guard has been taken care of ahead of time, guaranteeing safe passage across the border. You're on your own after that. We're crossing at Naco about eleven miles or so south of Bisbee, Arizona. It is a small Border Station manned by only three or four guards and is less crowded than the Nogales or Douglas crossings. I'm familiar with most of the Border Patrol Officers at this Station and have been entering the United States through here for ten years. I am not going to inform Andy of any of this information. Thought I would just let him sweat it out.
We're driving a Ford F 250 pick up with re-enforced suspension so the ass end wouldn't be dragging from the weight of the load. There's a false bed that has every available inch packed with Kilos. Besides the Marijuana we're carrying close to one hundred fifty watermelons. It's back breaking work to unload each individual watermelon to search beneath them. It's approximately 103 degrees and the sun is brutally scorching the Sonoran Desert countryside. Can't think of anyone that would want the task of emptying the bed in this heat. We had to get permit prior to leaving Sinaloa, Culiacan declaring the melons as inspected produce, free of insect infestation and grown without any harmful chemical particulates. Arizona has strict laws concerning the importing of produce into the state.
I slide over and switch places with obnoxious Andy and slip in behind the steering wheel. We're five or six cars in back of the line to be inspected.
"What are we gonna do man? Do we skip out and run?" He asks
"No fuckstick. First calm down! You're so nervous your shaking is making the truck rock. Now have your Visa , Passport and Arizona Driver's License ready. Don't wanna be rummaging around for shit at the border in front of the Guards."
I have those items ,the truck registration, Insurance card and produce document safely packed in one envelope and ready for inspection. I am a professional after all.
"Now they're gonna ask your citizenship. Answer United States, don't say American.
"Why not ? I'm an American". He argues
"And so are Canadians, Mexicans, Hondurans, Colombians, and a few million more people from any country in North, Central or South America. Do you get it dumbshit? Just do what I say and don't give me any bullshit. Ok?"
"Don't hand them any documents unless they ask for them, then comply with their request, ya got it? And for Christ sake please stop shaking and looking around. You're acting all squirrelly and drawing attention to yourself, looking suspicious, stop it!" I order
I turn off the Air Conditioning and roll down the window then instruct him to do the same. He's sweating like someone that has just run a marathon. His shirt is soaked with perspiration. The heat instantly takes over the inside of the cab and punches me with it's intense temperature.
"How are you so calm man? You aren't nervous or worried at all?" He inquires
"Of course I am, but I figure the worst thing that can happen is going to prison and there's three meals a day, a bed, television, arts and crafts and plenty of guys for establishing new friendships. Shit, sounds so good I just might turn us in. I'm due for a vacation." I joke
"Don't fuck around, we're gonna be ok, right?" He whimpers
"Only if you straighten up, get your act together and find some fucking balls."
We pull into the receiving area and a Border Patrol Officer walks up to the window. An Arizona Highway Patrolman sits in his cruiser nearby , notices me and gives a wave. I recognize the Officer, it's Carl Jenkins from Bisbee. I don't wave back so not as to raise any attention from others as to our familiar relationship.
"Well what do ya know. Look who decided to honor us with his presence. Are you lost Santiago or do have some legitimate reason to show up in these parts?" the Officer asks.
I've known Officer Rick Larson since he started as a Cop back in Tucson eight years ago. He's always been on the "TAKE" since day one, shaking down drivers for money to let them go from a traffic citation that in most cases they didn't deserve in the first place.
"Well Officer Larson figured you were missing my company , so I thought I'd stop by and see how you were gettin along." I respond
"What you got in back there? Watermelons huh. Sure do enjoy watermelon, so do my kids."
"Just trying to make a little extra pocket money. Gonna sell these at the Swap Meet this weekend." I mention.
"Uh huh I certainly imagine that's so!" Rick says with a sarcastic grin.
"Why don't you grab a couple for your family and the other Officers as well as the State Cop as my gift from Mexico. Hey, did you get your birthday present from my cousin in Sinaloa?"
"Yes I received the gift ,quite generous. The watermelon is a nice offering, I'll surely take you up on your offer and grab a few. And your nervous passenger there looking like a deer in headlights, is he your partner in the watermelon roundup? “Rick asks
"Ya that's Andy. He's worried the sun is baking the melons and will cause them to get over ripe and ruin the flavor."
"I'm sure that's the reason." Officer Rick says.
"Be careful up ahead there's a speed trap on Highway 80 just before Tombstone. Have a safe trip." He says as he waves us through.
"Thank you officer. " I yell out after they have grabbed about six watermelons.
"You son of a bitch you knew all along it was arranged ahead of time, that the Cop was paid off. You let me freak out!" Andy says
"First of all my mother is not a bitch. She is a very nice lady. Secondly I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about. Who paid what to whom , where, when, what? Man you think this is like some T.V. show. Best you forget anything concerning our watermelon run to Mexico. These people don't fuck around Andy. They'll kill your dog, cat, children, wife, brothers and sisters , your whole fucking family. They leave you alive until last to live with the guilt and the grief of having been the cause of their deaths. Then when you least expect it, boom like lightening you're dead."
There's over 200 pounds 95 kilos of some high grade Mexican weed in the false bed the truck. The pickup has duel gas tanks and I'm sure one of them is packed with pot as well as the spare tire. No vacant area or empty cavity has been left unpacked with contraband. Now a rookie working the run would expect payment for only the original 95 kilos. The seasoned veteran knows the "trucos" ( tricks) that these Traficantes employee. There's probably an extra 35 to 50 kilos hidden away that they assume you're not aware of and will not have to pay you for. That is somewhere around another 100 pounds give or take.
When I am hired on for such an undertaking such as this I always prefer to get compensated per package instead of entire load. It always works in the wheelman's favor to request that type of compensation, then you can't get shorted. Otherwise they may throw some Cocaine in with the load, maybe some Speed, Ice ,Crack or any variety of Prescription Drugs. Some knock off Watches , Clothing , Shoes, Purses all types of extra shit that you are transporting basically for free. I name my terms of the contract and because of my sterling reputation seldom is there any protest. They originally offered me the run at $30.00 per pound. Over the border runs are much more risky, there are so many factors that could come into play and contribute to a tragic outcome. "Nunca" ( never) accept the first offer if you've been employed by the organization for a reasonable length of time or have a strong, righteous relationship. My price was $50.00 per pound or a discount at $100 per kilo which El Jefe readily accepted and we drank a shot of Mescal to the agreement. Roughly calculated ,it comes out to around $15,000 including the extra hidden kilos and all the watermelon I could consume. Most of the produce will be donated to the Tucson Community Food Bank and Salvation Army.
"Hey Santi, I don't need to get paid for coming along with you. And as I told ya before the trip I won't say anything to anybody, I promise." Andy says
"I don't remember offering any kind of payment. Tell ya what, I'll throw a couple pounds your way as a gift for your company and toward hoping I never have to spend this much time with you again, ever! You drive me out of my fucking mind. You're like a child with all your questions and stupid comments. Man you need to get control of your mouth!"
"Sorry don't mean anything by it." He says "Maybe we could stop in Tombstone for something to eat and a couple of beers. What do ya think?" Andy suggests
"Maybe I should just drop your ass of in Tombstone and be done with you. We're an hour and a half from Tucson, seventy miles or so and you wanna stop for food and beer? You, best keep to selling nickelbags. No I am not going to stop for lunch and especially not for beer . I'm working understand? We need gas soon when we stop to refuel you can grab something at the gas station. No fucking beer!" I yell
"Jesus Christ, ya don't have to holler." He whimpers
"Don't use the name of other people's deity in vain. And how many times have I said , no drinking or drugs while on the clock."
"Your clock is always runnin', it sucks!" He yells
I pretend to slap at him in anger but end up laughing. He starts yucking it up as well.
We reach Tucson and I drop him off at 1st and Prince near his house. I am not taking him to the drop house with me the Mexicans would cut my balls off and use them in Albondigas Soup. I was going to have to backtrack to Pueblo Gardens 36th and Campbell. Thought it would better not to drive immediately to the Stash House just in case I had been tailed and it also keeps Andy from putting together clues as to the destination of the load.
"Hey Andy grab a couple watermelons for your girlfriend and her kids." I offer "
I'll give ya a call tomorrow concerning your compensation that we talked about. Ok?"
"Ya but what about the pot you said you would lay on me?" He asks
" Really?I will call ya tomorrow." I repeat.
"Bye man!" He calls out with a watermelon under each arm.
I notice all his identification and other items sitting on the dash. I shake my head in disbelief and throw it all in the glove box. He got busted three days later with the kilo I gave him, selling a half pound to an undercover Cop. He kept his mouth shut and only spent eight months in Pima County Jail for the offense. Who couldn't see that coming?
#END#
Judge Santiago Burdon
©2016
Word Count 2267
