I called his cell phone in the afternoon. It was the first time we had ever spoken. I was a bit nervous…

You might say he was a friend of a friend. Norman was the name I had jotted down on the scrap of paper. When my friend called me on Friday she told me she was going out-of-town but that the shipment had arrived from Hong Kong. Norman had our stuff and would be willing to meet with me. My friend told me she would call Norman to make the pickup arrangments.

"What about payment," I had asked her.

"Oh, don’t worry about that," she replied, "It’s all been taken care of. You just need to go get it from him. Oh, and can you pick up ours, too, and hold onto it until we return?"

"Ummm…sure, I guess."

"Great. Then we’ll see you next week. Just call Norman when you’re ready to meet…"

So I had waited a day before I called Norman. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to get rid of the stuff sooner, but I was a bit anxious about the arrangements. Norman supposedly spoke English, but he lived in an area of town I was unfamiliar with. I wasn’t sure if I was going to be getting high-quality product. What if the deal went sour? What if he expected a handler’s fee?

I spoke briefly with Norman. The need for the junk had outweighed the anxiety I was feeling about the deal. We were supposed to meet at 3:30 p.m. at the International Village–out front by the belltower. It was a public place and since this was an official holiday I predicted many people would probably be milling about–in the square. Impatiently, I took a cab earlier than I needed to. I wanted to be there before Norman arrived.

I had the taxi driver stop a few blocks from the belltower. My watch read 3:15… I still had time to case out the location before Norman would arrive. Crossing the busy street, I scanned the vincinity. As I had expected many people were milling about; eating ice-cream, window shopping, and enjoying a restful Sunday afternoon. Feeling a bit vulnerable out in the open I ducked into a small convenience store near the belltower. I scanned the various food and beverage items absently, but knew I was mostly just killing time.

Would he show I wondered. Would he bring friends? Would he have the stuff I so desperately needed? These and a million other similar questions flooded my mind. As my watch slowly ticked towards 3:30 I exited the store and paced around the belltower.

Scanning left to right, I searched the crowds for a man with a parcel or briefcase. A few people came my way with bags but passed quickly without stopping. Then a man seemed to be walking straight in my direction. At first he didn’t seem to pay me much attention…almost too intentionally, and then he looked directly at me. We made eye contact and he nodded his head in acknowledgment. He was a short man with jet-black hair, Asian, and most likely in his mid-40s. He was wearing a red sweatshirt that said Ohio State which I thought seemed a bit too conspicuous. I knew he was Norman because in one hand he carried a box which had a plastic handle. In the other hand he carried a plastic bag which had the stuff in it. Our stuff.

So he has it, I thought.

He stopped right in front of me and I tried to quickly peer into the bag.

"So, you’re Todd?"

"Norman," I replied.

It was awkward. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say or do. This was my first time to ever do something like this.

"So that’s it, huh?" I asked, nodding towards the plastic bag he held in one hand.

"Yes, this is it…" Norman said extending the bag and then the box for me to take from him. I almost couldn’t believe it was this simple… "from Hong Kong," he said.

"Oh, great. Thanks for doing this," I told him–not exactly sure what the appropriate response was. I didn’t do more than glance down at the packages I was holding. I had seen the shapes inside the plastic bag and everything seemed to be in order. The box belonged to my friend. I knew that for sure. Whether it was wise or not, I had made up my mind that I wouldn’t examine the stuff until the deal was over. It just seemed to risky. I didn’t know Norman and didn’t know what type of person he was.

We made small talk for a few more painful minutes. I just wanted to escape and to get out of the open square where everyone could see me. After a brief farewell, I turned away from Norman and walked back the way I had come. He quickly disappeared into the International Village and out of sight.

As I walked across the street, I looked at the plastic bag that my stuff was in. There was a familiar name printed in English on the outside of the bag: IKEA.

To a passersby I may have looked quite strange. Some locals would see me only as a wild-eyed American with a goatee. Perhaps to others I looked like another junky Western "user" getting his fill. But truth be told, I was just an innocent guy in a strange country pretty happy to be carrying home a hard-to-come-by score.

That is: two sets of IKEA silverware (matching knives, forks, and spoons!) one plastic silverware holder (in navy blue), and a friend’s heavy-duty Juicer. And that’s just how these deals go down here. Especially for a high-roller like me. Just ask Crockett and Tubbs.