All daleks must die.
—Rusty, Into The Dalek
Don’t be lasagna.
—The Doctor, Into The Dalek
In the 1970s, there were no dispensaries in California, much less legal recreational shops. There was, however, a man named Brian O’Dea.
#7. Sometimes the Biggest Dangers Aren’t Cartels or Cops
Let me tell you about the time we made the stupid fucking decision to transport 16,000 pounds of weed via DC-6. The goal was to get our weed from Colombia, load it into this gigantic plane, and fly it back to the states, where it would turn — as if by magic — into $4 or $5 million. Back in the 1970s, that was basically all the money, anywhere, ever. I bought the plane with two dudes from Chicago, but none of us could fly the damn thing. So we found a young man who had 2,000 hours of professional experience with a two-engine plane. Ours was a four-engine, and he said, “Oh, it’s no different. I read the book.” Not knowing fuck-all about planes, I assumed that made sense. After all, how could four engines be less reliable than two? (The answer is, there are twice as many chances for something to go cock-eyed.)