If you missed the first two parts of the Mexican story you can read them here and here. If you’re with me up to this point, the story continues…..
As surprised as we were that Alejandro actually returned, I guess we shouldn’t have been, we were a sure thing for him, and he was so nice and helpful to us. Our journey back to the border began smoothly but we told him we needed to get some cash to pay him as we’d been cleaned out by the sheisters on Revolucion st
He must have forgotten because he headed straight for the border. His plan was to check the line first because if it’s long then the quickest and best way back is on the bus, apparently they process the busses faster than all those on foot, as luck would have it, there was no line but in the process he went the wrong way and got half way up the entrance ramp to USA before exclaiming in perfect English “oh shit, wrong way” and proceeded to reverse back down the freeway ramp into oncoming traffic of course, because Mexico.
As this was happening an armed Mexican border patrol policeman appeared and started heading toward the car, oh boy here we go! As we continued to reverse he advanced threateningly. Hurry up Alejandro, he’s coming, but we luckily got out and spun around back into traffic, amid a fluffy of abuse and car horns! With that he remembered we needed money and took us across town to Citibank pointing out statues along the way. I didn’t know Montezuma was Mexican….
Thinking we could maybe get American dollars and not just pesos, we pulled up the the drive though ATM ( a little taste of home), unfortunately we only got pesos but we worked with that and Alejandro received a nice tip for his trouble.
We did the circuit again and as we approached the bridge beside the border gates he pulled over to the side, where there’s no stopping lane and said “You get out here, jump over that concrete barrier and walk down to the line.”
ok then!
And so we did!
Along the walk, a simple concrete path with wire fencing, the Mexicans were trying to extract the last few US dollars from each pedestrian. As the turnstiles appeared so did the increased security. There were automatic kiosks but we couldn’t make that work and had to speak to the CBP officer. Answering the standard questions about our return we handed him our green cards.
At this point I began to worry about the cuban cigar I had haphazardly thrown into my purse. The questions continued with a mention of alcohol or cigarettes. My Lord Dr King answered to the negative on all accounts while I though, “Awesome, here comes my cavity search!”
After admittance came the standard x-ray belt, which you see in every airport checkpoint. With my heart in my throat I placed my purse on the belt along with the bags full of t-shirts for the kids. As it came out we grabbed our stuff without making eye contact and headed for the door. It was at this point My Lord Dr King announced he wanted to use the bathroom. Fuck! I’m totally done now! So I told him I’ll wait outside for home because I needed to not be within easy grasp of the CBP dudes.
And so I waited, and then I heard it, ‘Ma’am”, just ignore it , he’s not talking to me, ooh look my phone is back on, facebook, what have I missed? “Ma’am!” Nope not me, he’s not talking to me, I’ll wait until his hand touches my shoulder, If I ignore it then I’m not caught…. with my heart pounding out of my chest like a cartoon character, I just buried my face further into my phone. “MA’AM!” Oh fuck, I’m done, ok just look up and take my fate, I’ll just admit I forgot or pretend I had no idea, I am after all an Aussie, so slowly and as nonchalantly as I can I look up with mild distain, you know, to throw them off the scent.
From the other side of the doorway, the CBP officer holding his machine gun waved me away from the door, “You can’t stand there, move on”
PHEW! I moved, trying desperately to not show my crumbling knees.
And just like that, My Lord Dr King emerged and we left. Contraband safely smuggled across the border for a nice relaxing smoke on the balcony of our hotel. As we walked I recounted what happened and my complete fear of discovery, and as we ascended the ramp toward the car, I finally began to relax and joke about being his mule!
Next time he carries his own damn cuban cigars!