Welcome to Florida ! What's up your anus ?

After signing the contract to work at the school in the Guajira, the school sent us to Florida to finish the paperwork and to gather everything we'd need for the coming year or two.  You see, after six months of traveling, the only clothes I owned included six dirty pit-stained t-shirts, some steadily unraveling jeans and shorts, and socks that allowed my big toes to breathe.  In addition, while there, we planned to get enough books and peanut butter to last.

So when we arrived in Orlando, Florida, we were full of enthusiasm.  We would soon be moving to a new continent, starting new jobs, and very importantly indeed, we were going to see and spend time with my family for the month of November.

Then we reached passport control.  His name was José or Juan or some such name.

- "Coming from Colombia, eh ?  Looks like you spent quite a lot of time there."  This came off as an accusation more than an observation.

- "Yeah, about three months, and it was amazing.  Can't wait to go back !"

- "Uh, did you say you were returning ?  To Colombia ?"  His eyes focused sharply on us now.

He was well-versed in Colombian culture; he had seen the films Blow, Maria Full of Grace, Love in the time of Cholera, Clear and Present Danger, and Romancing the Stone. He knew what comes off of planes from Colombia: cocaine (up nostrils and anuses), communicable diseases, terrorists, and crocodiles.

- "Yeah, we found jobs down there while traveling."

- "And those jobs pay better than in France or Sweden ?," he asked while glancing at our passports.  He knew all about jobs opportunities for foreigners in Colombia...drug-running, emerald-hunting, exotic-animal-and-plant-exporting, and mercenarying.  He just had to figure out which one we were up to.

- "Actually, yeah, they do pay better. We'll be working in the la Guajira."

- "I see..."  Suspicions confirmed !  A few beads of sweat were gathering on his brow and his finger started inching across his desk to the panic button.  Clearly he was outnumbered by these two mercenary terrorist mules flaunting their cocaine-filled anuses.  He was going to need back-up.

- "So, uh, what kind of jobs did you find ?," cracked his voice...he was stalling until back-up arrived.

- "Well, I'll be teaching biology and Pauline will probably work in the library or assist with the little children in kindergarten.  It's an international school."

- "Oh," he breathed, and a wave a relief swept across his body and his panicked finger recoiled a few inches. He grabbed his stamp and stamped our passports and said, "You may go."

So we walked to the nearest bathroom, where we quickly removed the pellets of cocaine we'd been carrying up our asses the past eight hours.

Sucker...




Just kidding !!!!  Ha !