Our tourists visas were up in a few hours.  We were on the verge of becoming illegal aliens.  Yes, that’s right. Caucasians can be illegal immigrants, too.  (in case you missed my earlier blog on this subject, probably millions of Americans are illegally staying in Mexico right now) Faced with the real possibility of being thrown in an Arizona prison, we hopped a bus in Guaymas headed for Las Vegas.

Six months ago I was standing in a Mexican government office in Ensenada faced with getting our tourist visas, boat importation documentation, customs, etc.  And without the benefit of knowing more than 5 words in Spanish. (no shame to you, Mrs. Means) I remember being slightly nervous and being calmed by the attitudes of the staff working there.  It would be alright.  I had been having nightmares about re-entering the US.  And to top if off, we were entering on a bus via the Arizona border-a state full of people so tired of people from Mexico entering that they’d built a huge, ugly fence stretching as far as the eye can see.  As we approached the border my heart raced.  We stood out as the only gringos onboard.  And we’ve all heard (or experienced) the stories of people trying to enter the good ol US…not the friendliest of countries if judged by its border guards.

Almost shockingly, the trip across went well.  Much better than expected.  Traffic was light and it was a Sunday morning.  Although sending an overly-militaristic vibe, the agents seemed to treat everyone with respect and were by all accounts very professional.  It only took our bus 30 minutes to cross.  During that time everyone exited the bus, claimed their luggage, and passed it through a screening machine.  And there were dogs.  Dogs with the greatest dog-jobs in the world: they got to run around and sniff stuff all day, every day.  And they weren’t even reprimanded for doing it.  What a life.  Faced with what is no doubt one of the most stressful entry points into the country, the agents here did a great job.  Why can’t the agents in other cities be more professional and less dickish? (I’m talking specifically to those agents in the airport in Calgary, Alberta.  Lighten up.  You deal with fishermen, skiers, and hikers, not the Mexican drug cartel)

Our bus dropped us off in a strange part of Vegas.  We didn’t even know where we were.  We couldn’t find a taxi line.  But in a final act of Mexican Kindness, the bus driver realized we were screwed and graciously offered to drive us in the bus to a place where we could get a cab to our hotel.  Can you imagine a US bus driver doing that? $25 in cabfare later (it would have been $5 in Mexico) we were charging all of our electronics simultaneously, soaking in the A/C, and running the tub, shower, and sinks at the same time.  Within the first 30 minutes we no doubt used more electricity and water than we normally would in a month.  We were on the fast track to being Americans again.

So here we are, in Las Vegas.  It’s a little bit different than Mexico.  Brad from Tenacious Grace ‘dropped’in from San Diego last night.  (it’s only 350 miles, right?) Having one of our sailing cronies helped ease our transition.  $6 crappy beers did not.  Enormous crowds didn’t either.  We stayed up until 3am chatting in the hotel room.

This morning I went for a walk down the street.  In 5 minutes I saw more freaks than I’d see in a month of Sundays in Mexico.  And I was kind of scared of other pedestrians.  They looked dangerous.  In Mexico, everyone walked everywhere.  It was the criminals who owned cars and drove.  Here of course, it’s not quite like that.  I felt more unsafe than I ever had south of the border.  It’ll be different once we get home I know.  It will, won’t it? Won’t it?

Jeff