From page 365:
…we set off to play in South America and found ourselves in the middle of sudden political unrest when we did a show in Caracas, Venezuela. Corrupt law enforcement, abundant drugs, and the world’s most dedicated and zealous crowds are the status quo across that continent, so I can’t say that I was surprised.
From page 366:
…During our stay, word got out to the authorities that we had drugs, so, in another move typical of South America, the authorities got “warrants” to search our rooms, in hopes of finding something that might require us to buy them off, I imagine. The day of the show, the cops barged in on all of us. I had nothing; they came in, guns drawn, and found me, freshly showered, in a towel playing pinball.
“Oh, hey” I said. “Hi!”
They showed me the warrant and started searching my room. I was pretty jovial as they tore through my stuff.
“Señor, is it okay if I keep playing?” I asked.
From page 372:
…The moment I saw it on the floor, Renee saw it too, and I immediately put my foot over it before Ma or anyone else noticed. Then I casually “checked” my shoe and picked it up. When we got home and started doing it, I realized that this thing had been in my jacket for the whole South American tour - I had actually brought coke into South America and back, which is ridiculous, because that is the last place where you need to bring your own coke.
Just like the Simpsons’ Blame it on Lisa, the truth seems so much harder to swallow when it comes from others at the outside, I guess.
