Skip to main content

Hashish and Steak Sauce

A guy from MP school and Airborne training, got transferred to Germany from Ft. Benning.  He wrote me a letter at some point describing his new duty station.  It was not much different from a military perspective but while I was basking in the sunshine and the swaying palms on Oahu, he was October-festing with Bratwurst at the Hofbrau.


One of the benefits of being stationed in Germany was the relative abundance of Turkish hashish, or hash.  He said he could get me some really cheap, so I responded in the affirmative, as they like to say in the military.  I sent him a hundred bucks and soon he responded with shipment.


Now remember that I live among the Military Police and so did he.  Within 2 weeks I had a small package delivered to me from Germany.  I picked it up in the mail room and waited for about a day before I opened it just in case it had been flagged.  Inside the package was a bottle of Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce.

 

I thought "how nice"... and then realized that my hash was submerged in the bottle.  Dan had wrapped the hash inside a rubber...a condom and submerged it so that it could not be detected from the outside.  I knew that his University of Michigan business degree would be his ticket to stardom. Brilliant!


But there was now a dilemma. How do I retrieve it? The neck of the bottle was too narrow to pull through 12 grams of hash.  What do you grab onto it with?  After a couple of hours of contemplating how I was going to eventually get to try this stuff I settled on a simple plan.  I needed a tool with a long handle that could grab onto the rubber package.  The answer was forceps, and a buddy just happened to have a pair that he used as a roach clip. We put our heads together and figured out how to grab onto the rubber and drag it up through the neck of the bottle. It was a tedious process with several failures. Eventually our efforts paid off but in the process the rubber ruptured. In retrospect, maybe there was a better way. 

 

I used to love Worcestershire Sauce on my steak. But after smoking 12 grams of Turkish hashish that tasted like steak sauce and having to explain the taste to others... well, it has never been quite the same.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Rebel Without a Cause

When I wasn’t working I was on the suburban streets tooling around with school buddies. It was fairly common to be popping wheelies through Steak and Shake or sneaking into the drive-in movie in the trunk of someone’s car. Once we planned to jump the fence at the drive-in and meet friends at their car.   In order to get there Danny Barthels and I took my Honda through Dunnegan Park, down the dirt trails through the woods.   It was dark already and I was doing about 25 on a narrow trail, almost there.   Just ahead was a skunk on the trail.   I was going too fast to stop but applied the brakes and sped past.   The skunk was more startled than we were and gave us a squirt as we passed, then scurried off into the brush.   The whole left side of my bike, along with both of our left legs were skunked.   What could we do?   We continued down the path, laid the bike down, jumped the fence and found our friends car.   As we attempted to climb i...
1 comment
Read more

Reality

  Reality My plane landed at Lambert field at 6:42 am after an overnight flight from Los Angeles. That was the last leg of a very long flight originating in Honolulu the previous morning. My three-year stint in the US Army ended with little fanfare. On day I was an olive drab soldier at the end of the Viet Nam era and the next day I was back in civvies. I had avoided serving in Viet Nam. Thank God for that. I knew lots of guys who went to “the Nam” and came back different. It was like they were shell-shocked some of the time. There was a distant look in their eyes some of the time only to be brought back to awareness of their surroundings by interaction with their Army buddies. To a man, they found refuge in either booze or marijuana. Sometimes both. I found that same refuge but not from war. My demons weren’t nearly as traumatic, but they were still there. The girl at the end of the rainbow in Pago Pago had rejected me. I was home now. Back to the womb. Back to a little subu...
Post a Comment
Read more

South Pacific

I remember getting off the plane in Honolulu and being immersed into the scene from the Hawaii Five-0 TV show.   It was warm but not hot.   Men and women wore bright flowered shirts and dresses and palm trees swayed gently in the breeze.   I got into a cab that would take me to the base which was located northwest of Honolulu near the little town of Wahiawa.   I hadn’t done any research on where I was going. I only knew it was Hawaii...surfer dudes and hula girls!   I had no conception of multiple islands with different names, what the culture was like or how far it was out across the Pacific Ocean except what I saw on TV.  In the cab I remember seeing a sign that read King Kamehameha Highway.   I thought to myself “how the hell do you pronounce that?”   In my mind it was Commy Hommy Hah.   What did I know. Schofield Barracks was at the base of a range of mountains that ran along the west coast of the island.   For history buffs y...
1 comment
Read more