The whole thing had turned into a nightmare for this man and his family. He was working with all the U.S. and Ecuadorean authorities, attorneys, and immigration personnel that he could contact to try to get her out of jail, but there seemed to be little hope on the horizon.

Now I was imagining the nightmare my children in the states would have, to try to get ME out of jail. I had visions of languishing in a deep dark hole somewhere for years as my children fought valiantly but fruitlessly, until finally they received a package in the mail with my moldy bones.

Well, first things first. Myrtle and I started arguing vociferously about what we were going to do when I was arrested. She made me really mad when she said she would have to take her scheduled flight to the U.S. and she would notify my family there. I thought that was really low of her to leave me alone.

We were still arguing when a security agent tapped me on the shoulder and told me I needed to go down to the tarmac where my suitcase was being inspected. 

Well, no way was I going alone! I grabbed Myrtle’s arm and hung on with a death grip, and she did finally offer to accompany me. More importantly, she batted those baby blues at a young male attendant who agreed to accompany us.

Myrtle and I followed him out an exit door on to a metal fire escape leading down two floors into a very dark area near the terminal. When we stepped off the fire escape, four men were standing in the shadows with a dog and my suitcase. They asked me to open my suitcase. 

I started to do so, but before I had it half unzipped, they suddenly said “No, no, no problem.” Then they burst into laughter. I turned in puzzlement to the young attendant, and he said to me in English, “They said you don’t have to open your suitcase. You can zip it back up.” 

I did so, and a handler appeared and pulled it off toward either a plane or a cargo carrier. It was too dark for me to see where it was going. If the young attendant had not been with us, I think I might have fainted right then from sheer fright. Myrtle, bless her little cotton-picking heart, batted her eyes at those guards and gave them a lovely smile. 

The young attendant then accompanied us back upstairs, and when we tried to ask him what the problem was, he just smiled and threw up his hands and said, “I don’t understand – they said not necessary to check – I don’t understand.” Then he wanted our boarding passes. 

I was so freaked out I did not want to give mine up, but my Myrtle, of course, snatched it out of my paw and handed the passes to that young man with a brilliant smile and a charming, “Thank you so, so much, you sweet young man.” 

I saw him swagger to our gate, where he gave the passes to the young woman who originally checked us in. I swear I saw her smirk. 

We made it out of Cusco, but for the entire flight back to Miami we argued about what we would do when I was arrested in Miami after they found the hidden drugs. My one consolation was that at least I would be on U.S. soil, not in a South American jail somewhere. 

It did not help my peace of mind when Myrtle kept blathering on, telling me why she simply could not stay with me when I was arrested, and that her schedule was impossibly full, but that she would do her best to TRY to be available to testify on my behalf when my case came to trial.

All those sweet words did not exactly endear her to me. 

When we finally reached Miami, I was hanging on by a thread. We got through Customs with the magic words “Nothing to declare.” 

But then that dog with the policeman started barking and came toward me. I truly thought I would die on the spot. The dog kept barking and sniffing my handbag. My HANDBAG?

For one brief, out of body moment I wondered if my best strategy then would be to just up and faint because I was obviously losing my mind. Weren’t those drugs supposed to be in the SUITCASE? 

The policeman took me to the inspection table, where I surrendered my handbag. The inspector quickly pulled out the ham and cheese sandwich we had been served on the plane, the very same sandwich I had been too nervous to eat on the plane and decided to save to eat after I was safe on my home turf. 

“Lady, were you not told you cannot bring any meat products into this airport from another country?”

When I realized I was being busted for a ham sandwich, I’m afraid I lost it. I started howling with laughter. The inspector and the policeman looked on in alarm. 

Myrtle, the little rat, had been hiding nearby pretending not to know me, but she now recovered enough to return to my side with a breathless, “HERE you are, dear girl! WHEREVER did you go off to? I have been looking all OVER for you. Thank HEAVENS I found you!”

Then, with her best pedantic and professional voice she leaned in close to the policeman and the inspector and said, “Please excuse my patient, dear officers. She escaped from the mental institution where she had been living, and now I have retrieved her and am taking her back there. She is overdue for her next electroshock therapy session, you see, but she is back on all her ten medications. She has, however, developed a curious case of kleptomania and hoarding disorder on top of her other rather extensive diagnoses, I am sorry to tell you. It is the hoarding disorder that caused this unfortunate sandwich incident. I will be very happy to tell you all the various diagnoses and institutionalizations she has had over the years….”

At this point the policeman interjected sharply, “No need, no need, just continue on through.” 

The inspector let out a tired sigh and tossed the sandwich into the nearby trash can. All I wanted to say to him was, “Look Buster, if anybody deserves to heave a tired sigh, it is yours truly. You have no IDEA what kind of night from hell this has been for me.”

But mostly I just wanted to bop Myrtle.

She grabbed my arm, however, and dragged me to the nearest bathroom where I had a good little throw-up and she kindly handed me paper towels before availing herself of the facilities. 

But I still wanted to bop her one.

To be continued…