Notes from the Road Region
Yucca in White Sands, New Mexico
 
 
 
 

 

 

"What?" I asked the border guard, again. He was mumbling something loudly. So loudly, I couldn't decipher anything he was saying.

"What?" I said again.

Then he squeezed his face together and blurted so loudly something about stopping where I was supposed to. I looked in the rearview mirror. Was there a sign?

"Where are you from?" he yelled.
"Los Angeles," I said.
"How long were you in Mexico?" he chomped.
"Half hour."

He didn't seem to like anything I was saying, but I'm not sure why. There are few things as funny as a mad Texas border guard, but it begs the question - this guy is protecting the border?

 

 
 

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