In A Prison With No Bars

"COWARDICE asks the question 'Is it safe?'.  EXPEDIENCY asks the question 'Is it politic?'.  VANITY asks the question 'Is it popular?'.   But CONSCIENCE asks the question 'Is it right?'.  And there comes a time when one must take a position that is neither safe, nor politic, nor popular, but must take it because one's conscience tells one that it is right."   -  Martin Luther King

With my Cuban Visa in my hand, I got in my car and started back to Rolla, MO.  To save money, I drove straight through and only stopped once to rest for about an hour before continuing on my journey.  When I reached Paducah, KY I stopped briefly to see an old friend before I continued on my was back to Rolla.  I was exhausted when I got back to my apartment, so I called it a day and decided to go see the agent at the travel agency the following day.

The next I went to the travel agency, walked in and handed the Cuban Visa to the woman who had previously helped me.  As I handed her the Visa, I told her I wanted a one-way ticket to Havana.  She looked at the Visa, then looked at me and quipped, "You can't have a one-way ticket.  The US law requires you must have a return ticket when you leave the country."

Now I had no way of knowing if she was telling me the truth, but I wasn't planning on returning to amerika, so I restated that I wanted a one-way ticket.  Again the woman at the desk reiterated that she could only sell me a round-trip ticket.  Finally out of exasperation, I said, "Fine, I take a round-trip ticket if that is all I can get."  With that I paid for the tickets and left.  The agent said I could come back in a couple of days and get the tickets.

A couple of days went by and I headed back to the travel agency.  Remember, I had no phone for obvious reasons, and thus the agency could not call me when the tickets came in.  This time I walked into the office and approached the same woman sitting at the desk.  She looked up me and immediately exclaimed "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!"

 Having heard that question numerous times in the past, I smiled and replied "Why?"

The woman reached into her desk drawer, pulled out an envelop, and handed it to me.  "HERE IS YOUR ONE-WAY TICKET TO HAVANA!"

I relate this incident because it shows how completely The Crazies controlled every aspect of my life.  I was a prisoner who had avoided the bars of a prison, but I was still very much a prisoner.