Our Close Call to Landing in Jail Because We Hid Marijuana in Our Car
Photo by manish panghal
In the summer of 2003, my husband Eddie and I began to plan our winter routes through Mexico, but we wanted to buy a small, older, RV to take along. We found one that seemed to fit our needs in the classified section of our local newspaper. We looked at it, liked it, and bought it.
When we got it home, we realized it was way more versatile than we thought it would be, and since we specifically bought it to take to Mexico, we named it the Mexmobile. I had fun painting and wallpapering the inside with tropical designs and bright colors to suit its name.
___________________________
There was a large, U-shaped booth on one end of the RV that easily seated six, but when its table was dropped down and the cushions put in place as a mattress, it became a queen-sized bed. Since there was a smaller breakfast booth in the kitchen area, we thought it easier to use the smaller booth as our dining table and keep the larger table down as a bed. We would also use it for lounging when we weren’t sleeping in it, so I put large colorful pillows along the back to lounge comfortably.
Before leaving for Mexico, we bought a topper to fit over the bed of our truck for extra storage, since the small trailer didn’t have many storage chambers for larger items. Inside the topper, Eddie built drawers and compartments beneath a large platform to have his tools and extra supplies organized and easily reached. On top of the platform, he put our outdoor table, chairs, and plastic boxes filled with supplies that wouldn’t fit inside the trailer. It was a good set-up.
___________________________
We had been traveling down through the center of Mexico for over a month and one night, after we parked while I prepared supper, Eddie, who was lounging on the pillows of the large sofa, surprised me by saying, “I’m finding our Mexmobile to be quite bohemian.”
I looked at him curiously as he sat back against the pillows, pretending to smoke a reefer. I thought the visual was quite amusing and unlike him. I didn’t think he liked to smoke marijuana. But his interest prompted me to think that I wanted to try and find some weed somewhere along the way to wrap up as a gag gift to him for Christmas.
___________________________
In early December, we stopped at a campground just outside Queretaro in the middle of Mexico’s mainland to stay through Christmas. The place was nice but lacked a lot of things on our checklist for a full-time commitment, yet it was desirable enough to stay until the holidays were over. Holidays in Mexico were full of tourists gathered in areas that everyone else wanted to be at also, so we thought a quieter place might be best.
We met several fun people our first week there, one of whom made no secret about liking the potent, green stuff, I was happy to learn. So I asked him where I could get some marijuana as a joke for Eddie’s Christmas present. He laughed at the idea and assured me he could get some for me.
A few days later he handed me a fat napkin that was wrapped around a hunk of dried vegetation that wasn’t as green as I imagined it would be. I had never seen marijuana before, so I didn’t know what to expect, but he assured me that Eddie would know what it was and what to do with it. I was prepared to pay him, but he told me there was no charge; it was his gift to both of us. Thrilled, I boxed up the napkin-wrapped weed, added colorful paper and bows, and set it beneath a tropical plant-turned-Christmas tree to await Christmas morning.
___________________________
Eddie had a good laugh over the gift but didn’t try it out immediately. The bohemian glow he felt while traveling was not the same as when we were parked that one night. And it wasn’t until New Year’s Eve, shortly before we were ready to leave the campground and move on, that he decided to sample his Christmas present. It was good quality marijuana, he determined, and we shared it with the friends we made there but had most of it left over.
Photo by Tessa Rampersad
It was quite a night. Eddie loved the wondrous feeling and made a vow in his heightened stupor that he was going to have a smoke just before bedtime every night we traveled, and if there was anything left before we crossed the border we’d toss it in the trash. I merely smirked at his declaration, knowing how quickly the positive effects would wear off and be forgotten.
As we got ready to leave the campground to begin meandering once again, we packed the outdoor stuff into the topper and hid the baggy of marijuana in a back far corner with some other items in one of the compartments for easy access from a side window. However, as I’d predicted, when we drove around Mexico seeing so many spectacular sights, Eddie forgot about his vow to smoke each night, not to mention his plans to throw the rest of the weed away before we crossed the border. In fact, we both had completely put it out of our minds.
___________________________
Several weeks later, we headed north. When we finally arrived at the U.S. border crossing, we saw long lines waiting to get into the States ahead of us. We pulled behind one of the lines that was just as long as the others and sat lamenting about the long wait. As we crept closer, other cars filled in the spaces behind us.
Suddenly, as if hit by a lightning bolt, we both yelled at once, “The marijuana!” remembering it too late.
Since the stash was in the back of the truck, there was no way to get to it or to get rid of it before we got to the inspection station.
We thought there was a strong possibility we’d be inspected because of having the topper. The border guards might think it was the perfect place to smuggle things, like drugs, and would want to look. But even if they didn’t do a thorough search of the back, for certain there would be drug enforcement canines to do a sniff test around our truck and RV who, undoubtedly, would be the ones to rat us out. Panic took over. In either scenario, we were screwed.
___________________________
We inched forward as the line of cars ahead dwindled. Suddenly it was our turn to show our passports and see if were going to be inspected...and then thrown in jail, I thought, or wait and have the dogs tell on us. My heart was hammering and I assumed Eddie’s was as well. I visualized the moment the marijuana would be discovered and we’d be put in handcuffs and then carted away. When Eddie eased up to the kiosk, we were both sweating profusely from fear and anxiety. Thoughts of having to leave our truck, RV, and dog while we were taken to the nearest police station were too much.
Our dog, Houdini, detected our consternation and began to bark, which made me more concerned about what was going to happen to him. I was nearly in tears.
The guard in the booth asked if we had anything to declare, while another guard with two sniffing dogs walked around our truck and trailer. I was desperately trying to stay calm, but it was a difficult task. I saw that Eddie, too, was more than a little shaky, from the tremor in his hand as he released his grip on the steering wheel and tried to act at ease while he handed over our list of purchases that we were taking home. We always had one prepared to give them, instead of having to give them a verbal list. We were under the dollar limit and didn’t think we had that to worry about, but with our state of mind, we figured anything might trigger a problem.
Photo by Altino Dantas
Time seemed to stand still as we waited for the outcome from the man in uniform at the box who was looking over our list carefully. Too carefully? I was wondering. Would he want to see every item that was packed up in the back of the truck?
I held my breath as I anticipated the alert from the barking dogs when they sniffed out the weed. It seemed as if the guards moved in slow motion and spoke in tongues. I felt like I had a time bomb strapped to my head and I wanted to scream, “I give up!” just to get it over with and alleviate my angst.
But then my world tilted in a different direction.
When the guard at the kiosk handed back our list and waved us through, I said, “Huh? What the hell? How can that be? This can’t be real!”
I expected handcuffs but got a wave through. I was completely baffled by that unexpected outcome.
I sat in total disbelief, yet I wanted to swoon with relief. “What about the dogs?” my whispers continued. “Why didn’t they catch the smell?”
Eddie had no reply since he felt just as stymied and relieved when the four-legged sniffers moved away after they found nothing to bark about, and we were allowed to pass. My relief and Eddie’s sudden release of his tensions were so great that when we got past the line of sight of the border patrol, he pulled over, got out of the car, and nearly sagged to the ground.
“How could the dogs not have smelled the marijuana?” he asked rhetorically, since neither of us had an answer.
Eddie then walked to the back side of the truck, lifted the side window of the topper, and checked in the compartment where he’d hidden the baggy.
“Ah, hah! Our kerosene lantern, with a small bit of kerosene still in its base, tipped over and soaked the bag, which must have thrown off the scent for the dogs,” he stated and added, “We really dodged a bullet on that one! Dear God! That was a nightmare I don’t ever want to relive.”
It took a while for our hearts to quit hammering and our systems to settle as we drove up the road toward the nearest Texas town. I couldn’t believe how close we’d come to being thrown in a jail cell. And I couldn’t wait to stop, park for the night, and have a good stiff drink.