Terrorists Onboard

This song comes from a trip to Mazatlan with four young men to whom I gave too much independence in a south of the border experience. Then put into a short story in my book - Tales from Mananaville. (At Amazon) TERRORISTS ON BOARD (Mazatlán family chaos ballad / slow burn → explosive humor) You hear a lot these days… about threats in the sky… about things you don’t see… until it’s too late… Funny thing is… the worst flight I ever took to Mazatlán… the peril was sittin’ right there… in row twelve… with me. Boarded up in San Francisco, summer in the air, Seven-twenty-seven waitin’, not a single care, Families, margarita dreams, vacation in their eyes, No one knew the trouble sittin’ right beside. Four young shadows movin’ seat to seat, Whispers, laughter, restless feet, I just smiled, thought “boys bein’ boys…” Didn’t hear the coming Mexico noise. Some storms don’t show on radar screens… Some chaos rides in young mens dreams… Terrorists on board and I didn’t know, Smilin’ faces, hidin’ what they’d show, No alarms, no warning signs, Just trouble waitin’ for the right time… Terrorists on board, yeah that’s the truth— And I was flyin’ with ’em… callin’ it youth. Mazatlán sun and a Jeep for the ride, Centro streets and some Mercado time, Pesos in their pockets, “be back on time,” Turned ’em loose like a perfect crime. Knives and candy? T-shirts and lies? Didn’t look close, didn’t analyze, Thought I’d done some fatherin’ right— Let ’em run free, forgot my foresight Checked the guys into a separate hotel Give them independence, sure, THAT will go well Freedom’s a gift… but it comes with a fuse… And sometimes kids light more than you choose… Terrorists on board and I let ’em roam, Gave ’em a leash that was way too long, No sirens yet, no damage seen… Just four boys livin’ out an untethered dream… Terrorists on board, but I played it cool— Thought I was raisin’ men… just breakin’ some minor rules. I’m Sippin’ Kahlúa con crema, fireworks spin, Beachside glow and a sleepy grin, But up the coast the boys are livin’ with flair Cherry bombs flyin’ through the air. Eight floors up and gravity’s game, Explosions echo with one room to blame, Hotel windows shakin’ in fear— War zone whispers in tourist ears. “Dad! Dad! Open the door!” “Dad—he broke in!” Door flies open, panic in their eyes, Four young outlaws stripped of disguise, “Guy busted in and took our stash— Said one more boom and we’re gonna crash.” I said, “Go back. You made your play— Now you live it till the light of day.” Even I felt that line land kinda firm… But lessons aren’t simple, sometimes you squirm. Sometimes fear’s the only way… A boy learns what his choices say… Terrorists on board and now I see— They weren’t strangers… they were with me, Four young boys with fire and spark, Turned a hotel into a theme park dark. Terrorists on board, no need to guess— Just kids with matches… and reversed success. Early morning call, Xavier’s grin, “David… I think we have a sit-u-a-tion…” Twenty-one rooms ready to flee, Newly wed rage and shattered debris. So I paid in apologies, pesos, and pride, Watched each boy step up, apologize One by one they faced the truth— That’s the long road outta youth. We think we guide… we think we steer… But some lessons sometimes land through fear… And somewhere between the laugh and the line… A boy grows up, a bit at a time… Terrorists on board, but not today, They learned their lesson the hard-earned way, From balcony blasts to humbled ground, Sometimes that’s how wisdom’s found. Terrorists on board… not anymore— Just men now walkin’ through that door. Yeah… the world’s got its dangers… real ones… (pause) But that night in Mazatlán… the biggest threat in the sky… was sponsored by… me?