I don't picture myself ever landing in federal prison for bank robbery, but I have an old friend who did.
Jack and I were much alike in our early 20s. We were both US
Marine guards at the American Embassy in Nassau. We both liked
bourbon and coke with a squeeze of lime. We chased the same kind of girls on Cable Beach. We shot pool together at Settler’s Pub on Bay Street. We paced each other on five-mile runs. But ten years later, I was wearing a cap and gown at a college graduation and Jack was wearing khakis at a federal prison in New Jersey.