Much of my work, especially up until a few years ago, involved writing about the narcotics agriculture, harvest, sales, transport, trans-shipment and enforcement industry...the largest source of income in my state. The second being money shipped back from workers in the United States.
It got me my start to being a sort of star, and like everything else in my life came from my athletic career because narcos are real hero-worshippers.
Trouble is, that can turn around fast. Ask Roberto Duran. These guys kill journalists. A lot of us, actually. So you never know. Being a party with them is like being at an orgy with tigers or something. One minute they're laughing and eating, the next minute...well, aren't you meat, too?
So I walk on a very thin rail above a very deep drop. My stories are like a path through a mindfield, but the readers don't see that because the mines are invisible. So it gets uncomfortable. Twice in my career some guy who scares the shit out of me told me I should watch my step in certain directions. That was REALLY uncomfortable.
Fortunately, I moved over into politics (my tolerance for filth got better) instead of just sports and drugs. Of course politicians kill journalists, too. But not as quickly.
Anyway, I got fired. And am too old to support my appetite for foreign women by playing baseball anymore. Though I saw Hermosillo play last night and think I could make the team. So I'm out of work... but feel pretty comfortable.