The Moment I Realized I Needed a Different Life

The following is adapted from Smoke by Scott Anthony.

The real world felt foreign to me, like another planet. The suburbs were especially alien. Until one particular afternoon, I didn’t really understand where I stood in the social hierarchy—or how far behind I was.

I was fourteen and living in Chicago when I met a guy named Phil. He had a beautiful sister named Becky, which was the real reason I went to his house in Evanston, a suburb just outside the city. Phil wasn’t home yet, so I was invited inside to wait with his two younger sisters, maybe eight and ten years old.

Within minutes, something uncomfortable became obvious. These kids were smarter than me. They talked casually about geography, world events, things I’d never learned. Real knowledge. The only mercy was that they were too young and kind to recognize how ignorant I was. There was no public humiliation—but inside, I felt exposed. I knew the truth. I was a street kid from the wrong side of the tracks, and it showed.

That moment wasn’t embarrassing. It was transformational.

It was the first time I understood that ignorance wasn’t just a condition—it was a destination. And I didn’t want to end up there.

I decided I needed to go back to school. Not immediately, and not cleanly. Bad habits don’t disappear overnight. I was arrested again, stood before a judge, and faced being remanded to the state. I was still a full-blown juvenile delinquent. But I begged for one last chance. I told the court about that visit, about those two kids, about realizing I didn’t want to grow up uneducated. Somehow, they listened.

They gave me an ultimatum. If I didn’t show up to school that Monday, a warrant would be issued. No more chances.

From that point forward, I forced myself to study. I started educating myself, clumsily and imperfectly. And once again, help appeared. This time in the form of an older friend who showed up at my house every morning until I learned how to wake up and show up on my own. He was relentless. He might have saved my life.

On my first day back at school, I noticed a woman I didn’t know. She represented everything I wasn’t—educated, sophisticated, confident. Completely out of my league. But she gave me something I’d never had before: a reason to raise my standards.

She became the single biggest positive influence in my life. She introduced me to healthier habits, better people, and the idea that dignity was something you could build. Through her, I saw a future I didn’t even know existed.

I still lived in the streets. By fourteen, I’d been arrested dozens of times. Violence, gangs, and constant tension were normal. Movies like The Warriors and Bad Boys felt less like fiction and more like documentaries. One song—“In the City” by Joe Walsh—played on repeat. It captured the hopelessness perfectly.

I wasn’t lazy. I worked constantly. But hard work alone wasn’t enough.

The truth I learned early—and painfully—is this: you don’t escape survival mode by working harder. You escape by educating yourself and changing the direction of your life.

Something kept me alive through it all. Call it God. Call it grace. Whatever it was, I shouldn’t be here.

But I am.

…

For more stories about survival, self-education, and choosing a different path, you can find Smoke on Amazon.

Scott Anthony built an underground empire smuggling Cuban cigars, making over sixty trips to Havana and moving millions in black-market contraband. Raised on Chicago’s streets, he rose from troubled youth to gang leader, learning survival the hard way in a world of danger and betrayal. His life became a gamble—border crossings, payoffs, and moves that could cost everything. After years as a fugitive, Scott rebuilt in Mexico, opening gyms, managing world-class fighters, and running businesses with hundreds of employees. A boxer, kickboxer, lifelong martial artist, and student of jujitsu, he’s now telling his story.