
dumois

Feb 20, 2004, 9:10 AM
Post #1 of 19
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As I live in Guadalajara and am a Mexican, I decided to take the prize advertised days ago on this forum to vacation in the United States. ... San Francisco. I love the city and all that surrounds it. The music, the food, the scenery, the vibrant multicultural environment. Buenavista's Irish coffee, Sausalito, Mill Valley, the Wine country, and back south through the US One down to Big Sur. My Dream Vacation! I got on the plane singing to myself, laughing and joking with everybody around me. Takeoff. Beautiful. Suddenly the idea, lurking in the background for weeks, struck me with all its dark force. I resisted it. "No, fool, this is your Dream Vacation. Don't do it!" Well, just in case I took a cardboard folder from my briefcase, opened it in full and wrote down the message in big characters. The rest of the flight was pure misery. ... As I descend from the plane in San Francisco I still don't know if I will bring myself to do this. I've been planning it carefully. Although it is a simple action, you never know what might happen. I approach the line with my briefcase and my laptop. Next! I hear the cry from the immigration officer, a man that looks more Mexican than me. A pocho, a Mexican American who once entered the United States as an immigrant himself. Now he has the power, and the prepotency as well. I see what comes. The man will take my picture and my fingerprints. I will have a record, almost like a police record, as if I were a criminal or something close to that. First time in my life. My head says, "It's OK. It is their country, their laws. They have the right." But my stomach says, ¡Pinches gringos! This is not fair. We are neighbors. We signed NAFTA, too. Why don't they do this to Canadians? Next! My turn. I walk ahead, and before the pocho or anybody else, including me, can stop me, I open my briefcase and take out the cardboard I prepared for the ocassion: Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. The Gettysburg Address. I turn around, for everybody to read it. I see the faces of other Mexicans in the line. They cannot believe it. They smile in silent approval, but do nothing more than that. Nobody seem to be as crazy as I am. Two officers rapidly take me away, holding me by my arms. I will finally be inside one of those infamous little interrogation rooms everybody talk about. "What is your problem! Are you a terrorist? Don't you know that it is strictly prohibited to provoke a Federal officer in this way?" I keep answering that what I did was to show the words of a great man, a great American. They make me turn my computer on and off and on and off again. I have to take my jacket and my shirt and my shoes off for them. Everything in my briefcase ends up in a pile on the little table beside me. They keep checking everything and asking me absurde questions. Finally the nightmare is over. They put me in the first plane back to Guadalajara, with I don't know how many warnings and a definite order, not to return to the United States in years. End of Dream Vacation. ... Saludos from Guadalajara, Dumois
(This post was edited by dumois on Feb 20, 2004, 9:25 AM)
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