Yeah…this guy is fucking cool. THIS is the type of person that deserves to sit next to me. I decide to tell him Embassu Suites part of The Austin Road Trip Story, and he loves it. He comes back with this one about his exploits with the US Border Patrol: Agent Jones "I thought I was bad ass until I hung out with those guys. They are unbelievable. One time I was out with them right at to the border. There is a big fence with concertina wire and what not all along this stretch, but the Coyotes had cut a hole in it—" I interrupted him. Tucker "What is a Coyote?" Agent Jones "They are the guys who smuggle illegals back and forth over the border. Anyway, the Coyote was smuggling about a hundred Tonks through the hole, and—" I interrupted him again. Tucker "What is a Tonk?" Agent Jones "Oh—that's what Border Patrol calls illegal immigrants who have made it into the US. They can't call them ‘wetbacks' or ‘spicks' because obviously those are racially charged names, and ‘Mexican' isn't accurate since a lot of illegals are not from Mexico, so they say ‘Tonk.' They call them that because it's the sound made when you hit them on the head with a Mag-Lite." Tucker "HOE-LEE-SHIT." Agent Jones "I told you those guys were nuts. Anyway, so there we are, four trucks on this hill like 200 yards from the hole in the fence. We are totally blacked out, wearing night vision goggles and we can clearly see the Coyote hustling about a hundred Tonks through the fence. The Border Patrol guys wait until all of them are through the hole and about 50 yards into our side, when all four trucks simultaneously turn on all their spot lights and sirens. Of course, the illegals shit themselves and bust ass back to the border…and in the darkness, they all run right into the concertina wire. It was a fucking mess. Some of them did not make it." Tucker "You have to be kidding me." Agent Jones "Nope. You think our force continuum is loose? These guys shoot anything they want. You should see their situation reports for deaths. They'll take out guys with rifles at 100 yards and write in the report, ‘Subject was threatening agent with a rock.' It's a joke." I get off the plane and part ways with Agent Jones, who is officially in my Awesome Guy Hall of Fame. Riding a great buzz, basking in genius slick maneuver that got me into first class, and having just heard some hilarious stories, I head to the gate for my Newark to Nantucket connection in a great fucking mood.

Excuse me? Did you write the email below, or am I seeing things? Is this a joke? Have you let the very small amount of fame—that I am almost entirely responsible for—really go that much to your fucking head that you think you can talk to me that way? If you don't like our arrangement, if you don't like that fact that I found you as a complete nobody doing nothing and have given you the opportunity to reach the world, then you can go back to where you were when I found you. In fact, thats a good idea. You go ahead and go your own way. Let's see how you do when you don't have anyone to blame but yourself.