Drugs
As the evening got wound up pretty good, I found myself engaged in a drug-related philosophical conversation with the DEA chief.
“We should legalize drugs and control them just as we do booze,” said I.
“Heaven forbid, what an intolerable outlook,” said he.
“Look, we Americans have the appetite and the bucks. Other countries have the product. In Econ 101, it is referred to as supply and demand. Yet we wave our flags of morality, and scream to the world that those countries exporting illegal drugs are wrong, wrong, wrong. Our drug problem is their fault, we proclaim. We must go to those wretchedly immoral countries and cleanse them of their wrongdoings. Is that what you believe?”
“More or less, yes.”
“Crap! The problem is ours. We should deal with it ourselves, in our own house, not heap the responsibility for our actions on other countries.”
“Other than legalizing drugs, how do you suggest we go about accepting this responsibility?”
“We should give every drug distributor, every drug dealer, every drug pusher, every manufacturer of illegal drugs, a speedy trial – within thirty days of lockup. Then, all appeals would have to be completed within another thirty days. Ten days subsequent to the appeal, if the conviction stood, the person, man or woman, would be executed and their remains cremated.”
Leveling a surprised look and a tiny smile at me, the DEA leader stated, “I could possibly live with that.”
Somehow, our conversation veered from drugs to ping-pong (table tennis). Admittedly, we had both played, but long ago, and neither of us, we said, was ever very good.
“Is there a ping-pong table in the house?” I asked.
“Yes sir, right outside that hatch,” responded two Marines, pointing towards double doors.
“Paddles and a ball?”
“Coming right up, sir. And we’ll get the lights on for you.”
Thanking our hosts, we adjourned to the ping-pong table. From the onset it was obvious that we had both previously played. But we were confronted by two problems: (1) we were both at that pleasant stage of intoxication where hand-eye coordination is but a glowing memory, and (2) it was twenty-five degrees Fahrenheit in the outdoor passageway (hallway) where we were attempting to play. After a ten minute display of mutual ineptness we surrendered paddles and ball, and returned to the bar.
Meanwhile, Donna danced with Marine after Marine, delighting both them and her. At about 3:00 a.m. we called it quits and returned to the hotel. It had been a good night, an unexpected night. Semper Fi!
Bus Ride
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Llanos de Mojos
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Bolivia is sometimes referred to as the Tibet of the Americas. With more than six hundred mountain peaks over sixteen thousand feet above sea level, and several exceeding twenty-one thousand feet, the nickname is appropriate. But mountains were not our reason for being in Bolivia. We had come to visit the Llanos de Mojos, the natural savanna grasslands in the Amazon Basin portion of the country. Situated in northeastern Bolivia, these grassy plains comprise an area of roughly 70,000 square miles, about the size of North Dakota, USA. The grasslands are freckled with islands of forest and sliced by northward flowing rivers – whose waters ultimately join the mighty Amazon River.
We were drawn to the llanos (plains) because it is frontier country, and it is cattle country. It is undeveloped, there is a paucity of people. Also, there is an abundance of wildlife, including deer, tapir, capybara, monkeys, toucan, macaws, storks, caiman, anacondas, freshwater porpoise, stingrays, piranhas, and electric eels. Our quest was twofold: study the method of raising cattle, and see some wildlife.
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