Tom Smith and I had just arrived by jet in a large city where we were either delivering or picking up a large quantity of marijuana. We either had already delivered the marijuana and were waiting for the money, or we had given the money and were waiting for the marijuana.

After boarding a bus, we were driven through a deserted street. We rode over a bridge and three times the bus passed over bumps which made my stomach jump. I thought we were going to crash, and each time I was momentarily frightened. I started to ask Tom if he were afraid, but I stopped myself. I didn't want to have to explain why going over the bridge made me afraid, but I was thinking of the time the Silver Bridge had collapsed in the Ohio River near Gallipolis, Ohio in 1967 and 40-50 people had been killed.

A city shrouded in white clouds lay sprawling beyond the water to our left. I was unsure whether Tom knew we were in Columbia; I thought he believed we were in Peru. The bus moved on through the streets and the scenes seemed familiar. I wanted to say I had been there before, but I realized I had never been in Colombia. When I asked Tom if he knew where we were and he said Colombia, I was surprised by his accurateness.

I had begun to feel silly and suddenly I realized why. We weren't in Colombia at all and Tom was wrong. I answered him back, "No, this is Tehran and you'd better hang on, because the person with whom we made the connection slipped some LSD to us and we're beginning to trip."

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