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The Story: This story entails a night in Belize (which also encompasses my trip, Hectic yet blessed). It starts in Punda Gorda. On the most southern tip of Belize. Where I was attending a basketball camp for the youth that lived in the ghetto of that area (basically all of Belize). My teams (team of 20 people, split into 3 cars) plan was to leave at 8pm & drive 4 hours to our final destination with one stop in Silk Grass for gas (one hour from our destination) as it was stated by a friend (shabba)(yes im calling you out) that they would have a 24 hour gas station. Well guys. I can tell you.. that was false. We started our journey with no hiccups & a “short” food stop at this very sketchy restaurant on the side of a main road lit with nothing but the lamps on our cars. After the hour “short stop” we finally got back on our way at about 10pm. In my van there were 4 people. One a Belizean native (knocked out from the tiring day), an ex Professional basketball player who played overseas (my bodyguard) also knocked out & a Canadian native who recently moved to Belize for mission work (the driver). I made the horrible decision that night to sit shotgun. Little did I know. This job entailed a few things on the small print that I clearly neglected to read such as: no sleep, GPS liaison, designated defense system from attacks, not getting us killed, and Music duty. As we made our way down the pitch black road myself and the driver, Umar, were having a great time talking to each-other about success happiness and wealth of the heart… as the two other slept (during this ENTIRE fiasco). FINALLY… We got to Silk Grass at 1am. Or “finally” as we thought. There ended up being, not ONE gas station that was opened passed 9pm. The problem was. Our van was a 15 seater. Fully loaded with equipment, hitting our reserve tank WITH an hour left in our drive home. Oh by the way. Silk Grass is the type of place where you wouldn’t go outside alone…during the day. We stopped at a police station looking for any sign of gas and found absolutely nothing. Umar thinking smart and remembering he was a native figured he should call his friends from the area. Waking up anyone he could. Now 2am Umar gets a response from a friend who says he’s on his way. When he pulls up to us I look with a sigh of relief. Only to realize he is coming up to the car with NO GAS. My sigh was quickly diminished in replacement of more distress. Umars friend said there might be a gas station 20 minutes away that they could check out and have the possibility to be able to get gas…. now 3am. Daniel Booter sitting in the car with his body guard & Belizan native still sleeping, two trusty companions who could have been very useful in this time, for at the least; Emotional support. I of course turned to my camera to find a friend and started to vlog what was happening (which basically put all of our lives in jeopardy) but desperate times came with desperate actions. Umar & friend finally arrived. Again with nothing. Well. With nothing but the ghetto & a prayer Umars friends, FRIEND saw him…. somehow, at 3 in the morning….. And of course. He was a mechanic. With a long white shirt. About 5 foot 7 with a skinny frame and a head full of dreads that reaches his knees. This in itself made no sense & was an improbability with the equivalent chances of our car miraculously flying. He brought us. To where this photo was taken at 3:30am at his house in the middle of Silk Grasses ghetto, in one of the highest murder rate countries in the world. He somehow took an old car of his and siphoned gas straight from the engine. Filling about two gallons & completely depleting the other car of its gas. This meant at 15mpg we had 30 miles and our reserve tank which we assumed could be 1 gallon. Leaving us with 45 miles of drive. With 55 miles left in our trip. Once again. We said a prayer. And went on our way at 4 in the morning. This final drive. We were on edge. Reserving every mile. And somehow. At 5am we finally made it back. Only to realize we have to get up at 7 to go to our next camp.