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I peek around and he’s huddled with the guys, no one is paying any attention to the fact that I’ve shoved the final bit to the very end of the truck.

It takes me a moment to place the voice, but it’s Brother Jimmy Swaggart himself. They get box number one, they get box number two and as I’m behind box number three and I start pushing it forward I hear this voice, a voice that’s not unfamiliar to me. And they do, sweating and straining, ruining some fancy suits and leather dress shoes in the muck and mud. So he calls them up, some nasty words are exchanged and finally I am told to pull my truck into the parking lot as close to the back door as possible and then the guys there would hand carry the boxes in. So I call my boss and tell him that I am at the delivery destination and that there’s only a handful of people around, no fork lift, not even real access to the back door since there was no way in hell I was driving my heavy truck in the mud. The boxes were all marked “Fragile computer equipment inside – Handle with care”. They were HEAVY, they were HUGE! I’d called from Delta when I was loading to get my boss to call down to tell the recipients that they needed a forklift or a pile of strong men to get them off the truck. When I had picked those three large crates up, the nice guy at the Delta air freight terminal had loaded them onto my truck with a forklift. He wants me to pull my truck up through the mud towards the back door and carry the boxes into the building. The part of the building where they need the computers delivered hasn’t had a concrete pad or drive poured there yet. I tell him, “Hey, I’m here with the delivery.” He fusses and frets because it’s just him and a few other guys in suits there. I had to pound on the front door to get someone to answer since everything was locked up tighter than the offering after church. But there was a hellacious sea of mud, everywhere.īy now it was around 6:00 pm on a Friday evening. I pulled up outside and saw there was no delivery area. I remember it being a long nondescript concrete gray building. It was acres and acres of empty land, the one exception being the first building of Jimmy Swaggart’s organization, church, and Bible college. Now, in those days there was no Mall of Louisiana or anything of any interest out on Bluebonnet. Late one Friday afternoon I got a call telling me to head out to the airport, pick up three large packages and deliver them to a certain address off Bluebonnet Lane. You’d pull an on-call weekend and Friday night duty once every eight weeks, for which you would receive blessed overtime! It was a good job, except for one thing: assclowns like Jimmy Swaggart. The plane would arrive and we’d unload the cargo onto the tarmac, sort it all, and load it into the backs of our trucks before going out to make our deliveries. At both airports I could pull up to a side gate leading onto the tarmac, pop the always unlocked lock and cruise right on in. In those days airport security was a joke. I could be going out to the New Orleans airport to pick up freight or over to the Baton Rouge airport and making deliveries anywhere from Geismar all the way out to the prison in Angola. I’d get up at five am and call the 800 number to find out the arrival time of whatever shipment I was scheduled to pick up and deliver that day. The pay was enough that if I lived frugally I could also afford to pay for my education.

I was done each day no later than 2 pm, so I took afternoon classes at Louisiana State University.

YOUTUBE JIMMY SWAGGART MUSIC CAMEL TRAIN HOW TO

I knew how to use that gun too, as long as I didn’t have to shoot too far. I was licensed, bonded, and I carried a pistol. As a contractor I made a steady thirteen bucks an hour. It was a good job back in those ancient days when three bucks an hour was minimum wage. When I was younger I worked for an air freight contractor that had contracts with several major air freight lines that didn’t have official offices in Baton Rouge or New Orleans.

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