After business trips to Alaska, I smuggled marijuana into
Japan many times. I used cigarette boxes to hide it and carried
it in my hand baggage.
I used to neatly cut open the bottom cellophane of
Marlboros with a razor and slowly pulled out the box. Then,
I opened the box and took off the small tin foil inside. Filters
appear and I pull out 5 or 6 of the cigarettes without moving
the rest. I put marijuana in the hole made. I cut the 5 or 6
cigarettes into half and put them back to the place they used to
be like a lid. Then, I did the reverse as when I opened the
cigarette box. I stuck the cellophane bottom with glue, so that
the tricks wouldn't be noticed.
In 1980, I fixed 2 boxes out of a carton of 10 boxes. The
next year, I got bo]der and the number of boxes became 8. I
bought marijuana everytime I went to Anchorage. There was
never a same way to buy it. I bought from a Negro standing on
the streets; I gave an Indian money to get marijuana but he
couldn't and cried to apologize at my hotel room; a guy
introduced me to a tattooist who had a shop in town and I
could buy small packs of marijuana from him. Though, he
was out of stock usually; I talked to a white man and he took
me all around town to make a connection.
My actions were reckless but it was because I smoked
marijuana before those expeditions. I always checked if I was
cool enough not to get into trouble before I left the hotel.
A few years from then, things grew weird and I became
not able to examine correctly my consciousness