Marlboro

of course, within a minute, armed customs agents were closing in (O’hare is an international airport so its a much bigger deal to have weed then it would be at a regular airport since it could be seen as international trafficking). this is where, again, i should have been panicking. but instead, time slowed down, much like a tape player sinking in a vat of honey, and my thoughts became lucid and clear. i needed to hold onto the marboro cigarettes online, since it would be my saving grace, since i had already smoked what was in it except for tobacco. i knew what i had to do, but boy did i feel like a bufoon. i remember thinking that not even my mom would come to my defence on this one. when the guards zeroed in on me and my college buds, i knew that i would have to do the talking since none of my friends could be trusted to A. keep their cool and B. not finger me immediately since i hadn’t bothered to share. so i, with the lit cigarette IN MY MOUTH, said “yeah, i smell that too!” and looked around like somebody must be batshits crazy to do such a loopy thing. the guards looked at me, then at my friends, none of which were smoking cigarettes or holding anything. then they looked at the people who were all watching. nobody seemed to know who or what. which was actually true since i didn’t even mention what i was doing to my friends, and all people had seen was me light the cigarette i was still holding.