Flashbacks - The Texas Trip
In June of 2011 I was a little bit shell shocked from Black Friday, but because I didn't trust the internet much, I only had about 3k sitting on Pokerstars/Full Tilt. I was spending more of my time on my business with plants, and my friend Ken in Miami had a business proposition. We were to go from Miami to Brownsville, Texas in his truck on a road trip and deliver plants along the way. We could deliver 30k worth of rare plants in just his Chevy 2500, the problem was we couldn't get an Agricultural Permit to move the stuff to Texas. I had known Ken since 2004 - he was never one to back down from the prospect of making money even if there was a grey area involved, and that's what I loved about him. In 2006/2007, I had brokered about 100k in plants all over the state for a California client, it was the biggest deal I had made at the time. The problem is - and those of you who drive in/out of CA know about this, is there are Ag inspection checkpoints, also known as Fruit Nazis. I was able to get around this inspection in a rental truck and trailer, and Ken wanted my expertise on it, as he had a lot of material he wanted to move to a high end client in South Texas. It was the agricultural version of a big whale at the poker table. He wanted this 30k delivery first, and he would take more as he saw things were successful.
We left Miami around noon in Ken's truck - a 2003 Chevy 2500 with a supercharged 6.2? and other mods that was dynoed in at 637 at the rear wheels. It was a beast and we had already smoked an SRT-10 in it the year before on I-95 on our way to a Dolphins game. The key to getting this load to Texas was getting it out of the Florida. FL Department of Agriculture had waystops on every road going out of the peninsula. I had found a smaller road that had a subdivision built around it in such a way that you could go through the subdivision and come out the other end past the station. As we approached it around sunset, we approached it and found it was a gated community. ****! As with most gated communities, there was an entrance for guests, and people who lived there could just go on in. We waited for a guest, and waited, and waited. WTF, did no one go out past sunset? Finally after 45 minutes, a car comes in and the gate opens, and we blast through the open gate while it was still up. We get through the neighborhood, past the Ag station, and head another 4 hours near the Florida/Alabama line. I know there is another Ag inspection on I-10, so I got off the road a few exits early and took some back roads into Alabama. Presto, we were good for the time being, as long as we didn't get pulled over.
We hit Louisiana about 345am, and I had a stop with a client for some of my goods. We were at a truck stop north of Lake Pontchartrain, and I had never met this guy in person before. A lot of our business relies on trust and referrals, and I was selling him $2000 worth of perishable merchandise. He came to us in the dark and as Ken was filling up the gas tank, I was loading this guy's truck. By 830, we had hit Houston and we were both so tired we didn't know if we could go any further. Ken had stopped at some store on the side of the road for fresh fried catfish with cajun mayo and was ****ting his brains out. We didn't have to be at the client's house until tomorrow afternoon, so we had some time to work with. We ended up making it to Corpus Christi, and spent $150 on a "beachfront" hotel with some muddy water that people were swimming in in the back. People from Oklahoma and Kansas were there, probably had saved up the whole year to take their kids to the beach. I realized how much I took living next to a beautiful beach for granted as I laid in bed and passed out for 4-5 hours.
When I woke up Ken was in his boxers rolling a joint on the desk in the room, licking the paper with his lips. He was a 24/7 smoker, but it didn't affect his life functions at all, he chose it over drinking because his doctor said his liver was shot a few years back. He was around 50, was on the outs of his second marriage, and he wanted to hit up some Texas strip clubs tonight. As tired as I was I did want to see what Texas was all about - I had never been here. We look up strip clubs in the area and after a shower, we show up to the first one. Ken was just looking for a good handjob, and I was just along for the ride. We roll into the first one all dressed up, and felt like the area was not that nice. It was fairly dicey inside, but clean, and we pay the cover and there is no one on stage. I go to the bar and order a gin and tonic, and Ken is doing his little strut towards the main stage. Ken is a good looking guy for his age and I have seen him get girls half his age hot and bothered - he had charisma that just couldn't be matched. I couldn't hear him talking, but I knew he was chatting up the girls about how he was from Miami, was recently separated, and wanted to find out who was willing to have fun.
I started talking to the bartender, she was born and raised in Corpus Christi.
"I'm from South Florida, what do you guys do for fun around here?"
"Smoke and ****." A little more blunt than I was expecting. "You looking for anything?"
"Well I'm always up for a good time." I was trying to make conversation because I was honestly bored, but never was into the hooker scene. I talked about Florida, how big everything in Texas was, and I think she genuinely liked talking to me. I wasn't a drunk pervert looking to get laid, get drugs, and I could tell she wanted out of this place.
"I'm sorry I asked you if you were looking for something. You seem like a really nice guy."
"Thanks, I'm just here for my friend, he's a little older, and he's over there....", pointing to the stage area, but he was gone. I assumed he went to a private room for a lap dance, and just sipped on my drink and checked my phone for food in the area. Whataburger....never heard of it. I saw the menu and had to try a new fast food joint out. I looked up and Ken was sitting there with a smile on his face. All was good and I said goodbye to the bartender, gave her my business card, and headed out, because Ken was high as a kite.
"So for 50 bucks she took my cock in my t-shirt and jerked me off with her tits in my face. I gotta change my shirt."
I looked over and see he has an undershirt on, which I assume was the jerk shirt. I was getting a little bit grossed out knowing his load was like 3 feet from me and the picture of some stripper jerking him off was burned in my brain. I went to the closest Whataburger and ordered the chicken fingers with cheese sauce, ate it, got really sick and was on the toilet the rest of the night. It tasted great, maybe I was just sick from the no sleep all drive day. ****ing Whataburger, I still will go there but there are none here in the area. Ken is snoring and farting up a storm and the stench was burning my nostrils. He didn't change his shirt and it was making me a little nauseous. I ended up taking a Soma to knock myself out.
We woke up just before check out time, and Ken paid the housekeeper a 20 to come clean our place last. We had a 3 hour trip from Corpus Christi to Brownsville, and we needed to check the load (on the truck) to make sure that all was secure. There was a 20K plant on board, one of a kind, and the client was a surgeon that owned a hospital in town. If we ****ed it up we would be out 5 figures. We get on the road around 1, and get a text from the surgeon, Oliver, that he will be home around 5. We have a few hours to spare, so we head down to Weslaco, West of Brownsville, and wanted to look at the big fence that was on the US side. We took a dirt road through a farm, and next to the river where there was no fence, we immediately get pulled over by Border Patrol.
"What are you guys doing around here?" He asked in a Spanish accent.
"We're from Florida, we were just curious what the border looked like." I noted, basically saying we were tourists.
"You shouldn't be here." It wasn't a command, more of a word of caution that this was a dangerous area. "Can I inspect your cargo?"
We had a longbed pickup with a topper and plants inside, it did look a little shady. He was not concerned with what he saw, so we got the **** out of there, and headed to Oliver's house. After going through a gate, we are in a McMansion area, and his house was by far the biggest. We have the gate code, and pull in to see a house empty with all 4 garage doors open. There was a Lexus RX570, Aston Martin DB8, a Toyota Tundra, and some boat. What car did he take to work? We were sitting for over an hour in the hot Texas sun wondering when he was going to get home.
After an hour, we see the solid gates open, and a Smart car roll up the driveway. You've got to be kidding me. He has 250k worth of cars in the garage, but drives a 20k deathmobile to work? We introduce ourselves and all is good, we get to unloading the goods, and he pays Ken in 100s, a couple stacks, and gives me a handful of 100s for my smaller load. I was happy to make 5k for two days of driving. His soon to be ex-wife is off in Europe, and the house is ridiculous. 7 bedrooms, 15,000 square feet of all marble, a 200k kitchen and one of those ceramic slow cookers where the two Mexican maids have been cooking since noon. We go into the kitchen and he pulls out a case of Coors light from the garage. He proceeds to put it in the fridge, goes to the bar, and pours a pint glass of gin with some soda water to top it off. This was going to be interesting.
He drove us over in the Tundra to look at another garden we could deliver to, have some wine and cheese, then head back to his place, meanwhile he is sitting there sippin on gin and soda while driving. We get home and he is totally bombed by the time we walked in the door. He clearly didn't have company often and wanted to have some fun. He asked me what I was doing besides plants, and I told him I also managed a gun shop.
"No ****! I have to show you some things." He ran off into his bedroom where I heard a bunch of clanking and a door open. He came out holding a Barrett .50 cal sniper rifle, identical to the ones the US Army uses to take out targets from long distance. He places it on the kitchen counter on a bipod and its pointed right at Ken. Ken was not the gun loving type and he wandered off to check on the car, or so he says. I take a look through the scope and it is set up on a 1000 yard shot.
"Jesus ****ing Christ, you could hit Mexico with this thing man!" I exclaimed.
"Well that's what I am going for, maybe some incendiary rounds."
This guy was ready for all out war. I go to check the 10 round box mag that was loaded onto it, pulled it out and it was heavy. This thing was fully loaded! I check the chamber and pull the bolt back to see a massive .50BMG round fly onto the floor. For those of you that know gun safety, this was a big no-no. You don't just keep loaded guns lying on your kitchen counter. He then proceeded to come out with the following guns, in no particular order.
3 fully decked out Danger Close AR-15s
2 Russian AK-47s, the real good ones with 75 round drums
7 or 8 Glocks in all calibers with 28-33 round hi-cap mags, some with silencers
2 Desert Eagles - one in Nickel plate, one in gold plate.
HK MP5 Full Auto with paperwork
Salvo 12 silenced Mossberg shortbarrel
Countless 1911s
Meanwhile, as I was in awe of an arsenal good enough for a small army, he said he had a surprise. I'm not sure what could surprise me at this point, but I was busy de-chambering the bullets out of these things. Bullets of all calibers were flying everywhere from being ejected. He comes around the corner with an HK UMP .45 in full auto with 2 mags attached to it so you could drop one and load the other instantly. At first I couldn't believe it because it was 100% illegal to own an automatic firearm made after 1986 in the US, but it had a demo stamp on it. Apparently he had a Federal Firearms License, and with that license you are allowed to have these guns as demos in a shop. It still shouldn't be there, but whatever, I wiped my prints off the thing once I held it. It had 200 bucks worth of ammo strapped to it alone, and was probably a $40,000 gun just to get in the shop.
"I keep this around for when **** hits the fan." He said in a very drunk but serious tone."
I was thinking to myself that **** was already hitting the fan, and it was a miracle that he hadn't shot me, himself, or his house already. It took me over an hour to make all the guns safe, take them back to the safe, which was a walk in closet, and hang all the stuff up properly. There were over 100 guns in there, I would say the collection was about a million alone. Dan Bilzerian himself would have been impressed. It was getting late, sometime past midnight.
"I have a 8am elbow surgery tomorrow," he said in a drunken slur, "but if you guys want to go to my place on South Padre, we can go out fishing in the boat." I told him I would talk to Ken, who was already up in one of the bedrooms a little freaked out. I found where Ken was staying, and he told me he wanted to get the **** out of there as soon as possible, and we would probably leave at 530am. That was fine with me, I knew that New Orleans and Biloxi was on our way back, and I had over 5k on me that was ready to be put in play.