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A NIGHT ON THE TOWN

Two waiters showed us to a table and pulled out our chairs so that we could sit down. Then another waiter came over and handed us leather-bound menus and explained the specials of the day in great detail. Finally, a fourth waiter brought me the wine list. It felt strange dealing with these situations again and I almost didn't know how to act. At first, I couldn't get used to having such well-mannered people dressed in bow ties treating me with such courtesy. In the San Pedro restaurants, I only ever heard grunts and the sound of my cutlery being thrown down on the table in front of me. I had forgotten how, outside prison, free people will treat you like a king if you pay them enough, and I almost felt guilty about all the fuss the waiters were making over me. In fact, I became paranoid that they were being too nice, calling me 'señor' all the time and bowing every time I said something.

They must know, I thought.

It took me several hours to get rid of the feeling that I had a big sign on my forehead saying 'Prisoner', so that everyone who saw me knew immediately that I was a cocaine trafficker. Of course, there is no way they could actually have known, but I kept looking suspiciously at the waiters to see if they were watching me, just in case. Jaime was also looking around, but with a look of absolute amazement on his face.

He must have been about thirty-five but for some reason was still only a private. I had seen him around the prison gates many times, but he was always fairly quiet and stayed out of everyone's way so I had never had much to do with him. I couldn't work him out but I could tell that he was very serious and responsible, which is probably why the major had chosen him to accompany me.

I doubt that Jaime had ever been to a restaurant of that quality in his whole life; the meal would have cost him a month's salary. He didn't know which spoon to use for the soup, and he slouched in his chair and forgot to use the napkin. I was tempted to correct his manners, but I didn't want to ruin the moment by arguing with the person I would be spending the next twelve hours with. Besides, I didn't want to spoil his fun either – although he was awkward with his table manners, he was obviously enjoying himself a great deal.

'Would you like a beer, señor?' asked the waiter. 'Paceña?'
As soon as I thought of Paceña beer, I remembered Colonel Lanza instructing me on how to pour beer in La Paz. And when I thought of the colonel and what he had done to me at the airport, I found myself