I have toyed with the idea of not telling this story, as short as it is, because no matter how much I think about it or type it out it doesn't feel like it actually happened. But it did. I wrote it out in my increasingly jammed jotter and it read like the opening to a particularly horrific episode of Banged Up Abroad.
Yesterday I was in my usual spot outside a coffee shop on the main street in Kelowna drinking coffee, smoking a cigarette. As with almost every time I have been smoking a cigarette in this fine country I was approached by someone begging one off me. I said "no, sorry mate, I only have a few left and can't really afford to just give them away." The guy, dressed in a manky hoody and tattered sweat pants stared me up and down and asked "are you looking for work?" I told him I was always looking for something to do.
He sat himself down in front of me. I handed him the half finished cig I was smoking, I took out a fresh one and lit it up. He asked where I was from and where I was going. I mentioned that I was trying to get from California, through Canada and back round to California, and had kind of got stuck here in Kelowna. "I have a buddy with a plane" he said. Which I doubted straight away given his scruffy look. But he continued. "He flies in and out of California all the time. Maybe you could help him out with something."
I said that if it was a free flight I would definitely be interested, even although I was days from heading to Calgary for to visit my buddy Martin who had work lined up for me. But when a guy who looks like a wee ned offers you a free flight on a private plane, you let him continue talking because, if anything, it's going to be hilarious.
"Have you ever shot a rifle?" He asked. "Sure." I said. "Although shooting a rifle and being a good shot are two very different things."
I once took a squirrels head off with a .22, but it was purely accidental and I felt terrible for weeks, and thinking back, I still feel pretty shitty about it. Damn squirrel ran behind a target I was shooting at, wee guy didn't stand a chance. A horrible twist of fate.
Anyway.
This kid stared at me again as I blew my smoke in his direction and stubbed out the cig. "What about automatic rifles?" Again, I told him I had. I had done that in a Las Vegas gun shop. I had been up for days and decided that gun play was the right move at that point. I shot the US Military Issue assault rifle at a picture of Osama. I did the bastard in, and, according to the guy in the shop had "killed all the terrorists in the background" with all my wayward wasted bullets dotted around the figure of Bin Laden.
I didn't tell this kid about my only experience with an assault rifle, he didn't need to know. I just said "sure, I've fired an assault rifle."
"You're not a cop, are you?"
I laughed for second or two, but then realised he wasn't joking. "I have better things to do with my time than be a cop, big man. But maybe you should have asked me that at the beginning." He didn't seem bothered by the details. Just the answer.
"Well, meet me and my buddy here tomorrow at noon. He might have some work for you."
With that another guy came out of the shop, well dressed, groomed hair, carrying two coffees. The wee guy took one of them and they walked off.
I lay in bed this morning watching the clock. I toyed with the idea of turning up, sitting outside the cafe like I didn't give a fuck. I got out of bed, threw on some clothes and walked towards the shop. I stopped at another place, had a coffee and checked the internet. I regailed the story to Gus, and in doing so became more curious. 11:45. I had 15 minutes to decide. I walked along. I stood across the road from the cafe, hood up, hat on and I waited. Midday came and went. I pulled out a smoke, giving it till that was finished before I would head back to bed.
12:10. I stubbed my butt end and binned it (because I am not an asshole) and just as I did that, lo and behold, who rounded the corner? The guy and his same buddy from the day before. The wee guy stood outside and his friend went in, a few minutes later coming back out with two coffees. They stood and drank them outside, looking about. Then at 12:20 they walked off.
I'm no crime expert, I have broken many laws, but I am no expert. Maybe this was innocent enough, maybe it was just a free flight, and maybe some manual labour. But to me, someone who watches too many movies, this reeked of International Drug Smuggling. And I am not at that stage yet. Was I curious? Yes. Am I an idiot? Maybe. Was I curious and idiotic enough to actually meet up with some guy in ripped trackies who offered me a free flight to California in his friends private plane on the condition I could handle assualt rifles and wasn't a cop. No.
I'm leaving Kelowna this weekend.
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