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Thursday, May 3, 2012

Oh How I Hate Mexico - Border Fears

A long long time ago in a country not so far away…….. A man had a vision of his own future. He saw a future where his children didn’t beg for money or sell Chiclets. This man took upon himself to change the destiny of himself and his unborn children. Like Rambo he took on what seemed like an impossible task and came out the other side alive. This man is my father. He knew America was the place to be but what he did not foresee were the effects America would have on his children. Most Mexicans think of it as raising Mexican children in America instead of Mexican parents raising American children in America.

I don’t like to speak Spanish (mainly because of all the old Mexican ladies saying “Oh listen to how he sounds that’s so cute”, great way to give a kid a complex) and the idea of going to Mexico scares and enrages me (I figure my dad came to this country so why leave it). So my dad was born in Mexico but my family might as well have been in this country for generations with how American me and my siblings are.

I started with that so I could tell you what has happened that has solidified my fear of and determination to stay out of Mexico. Especially because of recent developments and stories in the media going to Mexico even for a little while looks like they might keep you there if you slightly appear like you could be from there. My dad needed to go with his buddy to Mexico to a border town and (bum bum buuuummmm) he needed someone to drop him off. It turned out to be me and my sister to take my dad and his buddy.

The road trip itself was not that bad but fast forward about 4 ½ hours and no one has any idea to find the park that we were supposed to drop them off at and El Paso is totally unfamiliar to all of us. There was light at the end of the tunnel we saw a sign that said Exit 22b so we followed it. Then there it was in giant letters “MEXICO” ….. my heart dropped into my feet and I could feel my heartbeat in my fingertips. I started gripping my seat like I was in a falling airplane and I was bracing for impact. I scrambled looking for a place to turn around or at least a glimmer of hope. Nothing…. We cross the fence into the jungle.

Its like the Spanish channel but no one has big boobs and everyone looks like they want to kill me. Even though I was in a car full of people I have never felt more alone. There are probably still grip marks in the seat and arm rest. Suddenly we found the park, the whole reason we couldn’t find it was because it was in Mexico. I hold onto my door and my hand on my knife. The nightmare looks like its almost over, we find a place to turn around and head back to the border. We drop off my dad as near as we can to the most official looking person with an automatic weapon.

Is that where the story ends… of course not. We end up back in the lines but this time the fence says America(yay!!). The sweat rolls down my forehead and drips over my eye, I begin to get even more nervous because I realize I’m going to look nervous. I have heard that you need a passport come back into America and we didn’t have one. Its our turn, my heart skips a beat and I hold my breath. The guy in the booth waves us up and asks us a ton of questions starting with where are we from. He takes our I.D.s and goes back into his booth, and stays there for a long time. I do my best to appear calm but my heart is beating so hard I can almost see my shirt move. A second person strolls up from behind the car asking us to look in the trunk. I bite my lips and get the taste of hot fries from earlier in day. The guy leans over and tells us they are going to search our car, he still doesn’t give us our I.D.s. At this point my sister starts complaining about how we are Americans being treated like criminals but all I can think is that prison wont be that bad once I get past all the rape. They tell us to get out of the car and look the other way, two more official looking people march up to us, one of them yelling at another things you would hear a coworker yell at a friend.

Finally they hand us our I.D.s and tell us were are free to go. At this point I cant hear anything I just want to get the hell away from the border. I will never go to Mexico again but most importantly I hate Mexico and Border Patrol!!! And now I really hate drug runners….. Really hate ‘em!!!