USA, Por Favor

Leaders are assumed to know where they're going. You feel foolish when you discover they don't. You feel worse when you've been the leader.

Crossing the Border

A passport into Mexico was not always necessary for a weekend. I don't know how many people drove across the border every Saturday and Sunday then -- but it was a lot, like a really, really lot.  Sunday afternoon the line to the border through Tijuana was miles. You had time, while in line, to buy piñatas, tacos, and trinkets made in China from the youngsters pounding on your car window.


An alternative was peeling off east and exiting via Tecate, a forty mile detour. Or, as I had discovered, there was an alternate way around the boring border lines themselves.

Tijuana is a large city

Because I was making rather regular trips to Ensenada, I had gotten to know Tijuana's streets fairly well. I could save up to an hour by leaving the line, dodging around past the bus station, and re-entering at a signal light much closer to the border.

river bed near Tecate

One home bound Sunday, late, I picked my special turn and headed at a good clip ninety degrees northward, entered an alley, shot past the Greyhound station, and... made one wrong turn, finding myself in a river bed.

Ensenada (south of Tijuana)

That was bad enough, of course; but it was then I realized that four cars had tailed me.


I hope they got out of Mexico somehow. I realized my mistake and recovered. Those four may have had to go back to that bus station. Or flagged a piñata seller to get proper instructions and gone home with two piñatas.