The Border Patrol

Last year I found myself driving from San Diego to El Paso, Texas to meet up with friends that were stationed there. Years ago, I was a member of Soldier’s Angels, a volunteer group that wrote letters to military members fighting in Afghanistan. Michael was one of my “adoptees” and I’ve stayed in touch with him and his family. His children call me Angel Cynde. Michael was stationed in El Paso for a few months so I thought I’d make the 10-hour drive to visit them over a long weekend before they moved to the Midwest.

I rented a car with satellite radio and went on my merry way. Things were going along smoothly, I stopped a few times for breaks. Damn near died when I got out of my car in Arizona. I swear it was 120 degrees in the shade. How do people live that way?

As I said, no issues. Until I hit the border check. We have them in San Diego County so this was not a new thing to me. Or so I thought. Now for people that do not know what a border check is, I’ll enlighten you. On certain highways in the Southwest the border patrol has permanent checks where you must slow down or stop and they inspect your vehicle for drugs and illegals. In California, you basically slow down and they do a once-over as you drive by, depending on the size of the car. Bigger cars might get stopped and trucks must pull over. Mostly if you’re not Latino looking you get waved through. They’re pretty good at body language and know what cars to pull over.

Not so at this check. I was stopped and asked, “Are you an American citizen?” They do not do that in California! I was so thrown off by it I automatically said “no” without thinking. I am not a good liar—my voice goes up 3 octaves—so saying yes wasn’t really an option. Seriously, there's nothing I carry that says ALIEN so I could have gotten away with saying yes. 

He asked me for me green card and therein was the problem. I do not carry my green card. I’m a WASP, no one cares about me. If I carried it I’d lose it and it’s not cheap to replace. I’m in full blown panic at this point, I’ve heard stories about aliens in Arizona and I’m thinking I’m going to end up in that jail in the dessert wearing a pink jumpsuit. So, I get this stupid guilty grin on my face and admit I don’t have it.  You know that grin women do when they think they can get out of a traffic ticket? Yeah, that one.

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He told me to pull over and someone would come over to talk to me. Oh God, I’m getting deported.

Over walks two officers and they sternly start asking me questions. Why don’t I have my green card on me, where am I going, where do I live, etc. Then one asked what nationality am I. I said I’m Canadian. And then the laughing started. I am not kidding. They look at each other and here is the conversation.

I can’t believe the new guy pulled over a Canadian.
We need to give him a hard time. I can’t believe he did that.
What a dope. Seriously. A CANADIAN.

I’m thinking, umm guys, I can hear you.

They looked at me and said, you can go but carry your card next time. Verbally I said thank you officers it was nice talking to you. In my mind, I was screaming OMGOMGOMGOMG!!!!

Then I had to do that slow paranoid drive away. You know that one you do right after you get a ticket and you have to pull out in front of them.

On the way back I practiced saying "yes" with an American accent and a deeper voice. How I pulled it off I'll never know. Because this was me saying "yes."

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