Prohibition

NOTE: New York City's Mayor Michael Bloomberg has announced his plan to limit the salt content of foods served in the city. He has already enacted a ban on trans fats. How will these regulations be enforced?

My wife and I were driving into NYC through the Holland Tunnel. In front of us was a rather large box truck. Traffic was slow and we all headed towards the tunnel police check point. At the check point, armed police guards screen the incoming cars for the forbidden foods. Anyone attempting to bring salty of trans fat foods into NYC is subject to arrest. In response, smugglers use trucks, under the cover of heavy NYC traffic to satisfy the burgeoning NYC contraband food market. The box truck in front of our car proceeded to the check point. Suddenly, a dozen police guards, with their shotguns at the ready, surrounded the truck. They motioned for us to pull backwards, away from the box truck. Two of the guards climbed up on the rear step, smashed the lock off the truck door and raised it up. We could see the cargo. I had never seen so many bags of potato chips in my life. They were Wise, blue bag, the good stuff. So many bags. There must have been a million dollars worth of the stuff. We could see the guards grab the driver and passenger, taking them both into custody in shackles. One of them struggled against his bonds and the guard hit him in the head with the butt of his shotgun.
As this scene unfolded in front of us, my wife and I were struck with an idea. With the "Food Cops" so occupied with screening of truck traffic into the city, a passenger car would never be suspected. If we were to properly equip OUR car, we could carry some eagerly desired snack foods into the city and distribute the illegal bounty to friends who might also like to participate in our gastronomic smuggling ring. It didn't take long or much expense to modify our old Ford Crown Victoria, the largest passenger car made, for our purposes. Pretty soon we were able to find sources in NJ for this luscious contraband. Our first load contained several pounds of fresh pastrami, a favorite of Jews everywhere, banned in NYC because of fat and salt content. To cover the aroma, we added bags of fresh garlic. We were also able to find another precious bounty, Nathan's hot dogs. We packed up around twenty pounds of that NY treasure. We filled the trunk of the Crown Vic with specialty potato chips; they sell for about twenty dollars a bag. This seemed like a lucrative venture. We entered the city through the most crowded Hudson River crossing, the Lincoln Tunnel. We breezed through the checkpoint and headed on to our customer. We were able to back the car right up to the door. The food was unloaded, money was exchanged and we drove back to NJ, pockets full, trunk empty. The "skids" were greased for the continuation of this smuggling racket.
This scene was duplicated many times throughout the coming months. I can't count how many salt and fat runs we made. Shortly, we got a second vehicle and a third and a fourth. I had to quit my legitimate work to carry out and supervise these smuggling runs. We had a whole network of drivers and "foodie" customers. We carried anyfood product that was "hot". Our bounty included French fries, Chinese delicacies, Jewish salami, all manner of pickles, other cold cuts and plenty more. The cars were filled to the trunk lids. We unloaded all over the city, Manhattan, Brooklyn and Staten Island. We chose those destinations because they were most familiar to us. We didn't want to get lost with a trunk full of forbidden foods. I did a lot of the driving myself. I did ALL of the loading myself. Business was good, real good.
The end came suddenly. It was a rainy Friday night. I approached the checkpoint at the Outerbridge Crossing, gateway to Staten Island, on my way for another run. I never expected the gaggle of police soldiers to come bolting out of the "woodwork". Their pistols and shotguns were drawn and aimed my way. I panicked and ran to the rear of the car. As I opened the trunk (I don't know why), shots rang out. I was hit as I opened the trunk. I grabed a package of pastrami and began to stuff the contraband Jewish specialty into my mouth. They shot again. That pastrami would be my last meal. As I lay bleeding on the wet ground, I heard a voice say: "I hope you like that stuff, scumbag". He kicked my head, grabbed the food and left me there. That's where I died. I guess it's better to leave this world with a mouthful of pastrami than a gut full of lead. Thanks a lot, Mayor Bloomberg.