Out of Captivity : Surviving 1,967 Days in the Colombian Jungle

12 OUT OF CAPTIVITYI missed was spectacular, “Mama’s full of food. I dropped her off atthe terminal this morning on my way in. She’s happy, and I’m goingto see her shortly at home.” Tommy J pivoted in his seat and I saw thebig grin on his face. The man clearly loved his wife and spoke of her inglowing terms every time I was around him. I remember thinking thatthe guy was fifty-six years old, but he had the body of someone who wastwenty-five. I didn’t know how he did it, but I wouldn’t have mindeddoing it myself.By that time, the smell of Tom’s lunch had wafted to the back ofthe aircraft—garlic, some pungent cheese—and that got Keith and medrooling a bit. Keith showed me the chicken Parmesan sandwich thathe’d ordered along with his dinner the night before, and I started wishingagain that I’d joined them. My meager can of tuna didn’t stand upto the pleasures these guys brought on board. Those smells also didn’tmake it any easier for me to think about eating better, shedding a few ofthe pounds the good life had helped me pack on. I couldn’t help myself,though. I was about four hours into my day and had barely eaten athing since the night before.“Keith, you’ve got to give me your recipe for tuna-salad sandwiches,”I said to him.As legendary as Tom’s wife’s cooking was (we could always tellwhether she was in Colombia or the States based on the quality ofTom’s lunches), Keith’s tuna-salad recipe had earned a reputation forexcellence company-wide and beyond.Keith laughed and said, “No can do, sir. It’s a can for you. My recipeis classified information. You don’t have the proper clearance.”“But you brought the stuff, right? You brought the tuna, too?”The irony of me talking like a junkie to my dealer wasn’t lost on anyof us, but those sandwiches of Keith’s were just that good.“Yeah. I got the tuna fish, too, bro. You can calm yourself. Everything’sright in our world.”