Border Patrol Stories
Full Moon Magic
I was working 4-12p in San Luis on a busy Saturday night. I had a near full load in the back that I had caught hitchhiking. They were literally hitchhiking. I was driving north on Hwy 95 and there were seven guys holding their triques bags standing in a line on the side of the road with their thumbs out. All of us thought it was pretty funny, but I was getting the feeling that it was going to be "one of those nights".
In San Luis, several minutes later, I saw another guy walking on the opposite side of the street and instantly swooped over and picked him up, wordlessly stuffing him in the back with the hitchhikers. The new guy was a bit put out by the abruptness of his apprehension and wanted to know why I had singled him out from all the other pedestrians and why I hadn't even asked him anything. Evidently, he was one of those guys who liked to chat before taking his ride. The guy wasn't annoyed at being apprehended, he just felt that the process should follow a certain predictable sequence of events - a transition, so to speak - from walking loose and packed into a stinky truck with a bunch of people he didn't know.
The hitchhikers wanted to know too, one guy wondering if I had "magia migra" powers. So, I pulled over under a streetlight and asked them if they could see the new guy's fancy T-shirt. Agreeing that they could, I then asked them if they knew what it said, which they agreed that they did not, it being in English. Now, with their undivided attention, I explained that the new guy was wearing a pink shirt decorated in silver and gold sequins, with large lettering in red proclaiming "FOXY LADY!" across the front. I explained to them what that meant, and said I figured he was mojado for sure because of it. So there wasn't much to talk about. Que no?
Well, with that, the hitchhikers went into fits of laughter, only to double up in hilarity when the guy takes off his shirt and rips it up. A transport van showed up not long after that, and all but the now shirtless guy boarded in a jolly mood.
Later in the shift, I found some fresh sign just east of the POE, and as I swung my Q Beam about, there were 2 guys with nowhere to run, so they started walking in my direction. They turned out to be an older father and his adult son. What we called "good old boys". We chatted about where they were from, what it was like there, and where in the US they planned to go when they finally made it. Nice guys.
After helping another Agent cut and 10-15 a his group, I got a call to meet with the San Luis PD. San Luis wasn't a big place, back then it wasn't any place, so we were there right away. Not surprising for a Saturday night, what the PD had was a very antagonistic and vocal drunk whom they wanted to offer up as a donation to their local Border Patrol. Gee thanks.
The drunk guy was really mouthy and getting on my nerves when he just falls asleep. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. Nope. The guy wakes up about 10 minutes later and he's all recharged. He starts off on the pinche migra, pinche USA, and then he shifts gears onto my mother and my wife and all the female relatives in my ancient history. At this point, the father and son good old boys in the back tell him to pipe down (something about a pinche voca) that the migra officer is just doing his job, that I've been a gentleman to him so far, so he should be a gentleman too. In response, the drunk starts cussing my mother again and spits - and that's when all hell breaks loose in the back for about 20 seconds and stops before I can pull over. The drunk is now crying like a 5-year-old and the father and son make him apologize and promise to STFU, which he did, except for the crying part. His face looked like a sack of potatoes.
Heading for the station now, I give an ETA and asked that a supervisor meet me at the processing entrance. I'm thinking to myself, "No way in hell is anybody gonna believe this sh*t..."
Arriving at the back door, I'm greeted by a delegation of supervisors (You never get just one, like you asked). They don't look happy to see us.
Somebody takes the 3 guys inside and the bosses want to know, right now, what the hell happened. So I tell them. They think I'm making it up. I'm told to start a memo: "Dear Chief..." while they separate the 3 guys and find out what really happened.
I'm on my 2nd or 3 third false start of a memo to explain the inexplicable when my boss Olla Estes (RIP) sits down across from me with a perplexed half grin on his face. He says, "How do you do it?"
"Do what?" I asked.
"Well," he said. "We took statements from everybody. The father and son say they beat the guy up because you were being a nice guy, and they didn't like the way the drunk was being disrespectful and cursing at you and your female relatives."
"Well, we knew that couldn't be true, so we went and talked to the drunk. The drunk says that he was being disrespectful, insulting, and verbally abusive to you and your female relatives, even though you were being a nice guy, that the father and son didn't like that, and after warning him to show some respect several times, they lumped him up after he cursed even more and spat in the truck." I just nodded my head.
"So, don't worry about the memo for now. I'd better do this one. Nobody is going to believe this..." As he was leaving, he turned back, "Oh, and before you go home, the drunk guy asked if he could apologize to you again in person. How do you do it?"
As I walked to my POV, the parking lot brightly lit by a brilliant desert full moon, I was pondering the last shift's bizarre events when I remembered what one of the hitchhikers said about "magia migra." It might be something to it. Naw...
In San Luis, several minutes later, I saw another guy walking on the opposite side of the street and instantly swooped over and picked him up, wordlessly stuffing him in the back with the hitchhikers. The new guy was a bit put out by the abruptness of his apprehension and wanted to know why I had singled him out from all the other pedestrians and why I hadn't even asked him anything. Evidently, he was one of those guys who liked to chat before taking his ride. The guy wasn't annoyed at being apprehended, he just felt that the process should follow a certain predictable sequence of events - a transition, so to speak - from walking loose and packed into a stinky truck with a bunch of people he didn't know.
The hitchhikers wanted to know too, one guy wondering if I had "magia migra" powers. So, I pulled over under a streetlight and asked them if they could see the new guy's fancy T-shirt. Agreeing that they could, I then asked them if they knew what it said, which they agreed that they did not, it being in English. Now, with their undivided attention, I explained that the new guy was wearing a pink shirt decorated in silver and gold sequins, with large lettering in red proclaiming "FOXY LADY!" across the front. I explained to them what that meant, and said I figured he was mojado for sure because of it. So there wasn't much to talk about. Que no?
Well, with that, the hitchhikers went into fits of laughter, only to double up in hilarity when the guy takes off his shirt and rips it up. A transport van showed up not long after that, and all but the now shirtless guy boarded in a jolly mood.
Later in the shift, I found some fresh sign just east of the POE, and as I swung my Q Beam about, there were 2 guys with nowhere to run, so they started walking in my direction. They turned out to be an older father and his adult son. What we called "good old boys". We chatted about where they were from, what it was like there, and where in the US they planned to go when they finally made it. Nice guys.
After helping another Agent cut and 10-15 a his group, I got a call to meet with the San Luis PD. San Luis wasn't a big place, back then it wasn't any place, so we were there right away. Not surprising for a Saturday night, what the PD had was a very antagonistic and vocal drunk whom they wanted to offer up as a donation to their local Border Patrol. Gee thanks.
The drunk guy was really mouthy and getting on my nerves when he just falls asleep. Maybe this won't be so bad after all. Nope. The guy wakes up about 10 minutes later and he's all recharged. He starts off on the pinche migra, pinche USA, and then he shifts gears onto my mother and my wife and all the female relatives in my ancient history. At this point, the father and son good old boys in the back tell him to pipe down (something about a pinche voca) that the migra officer is just doing his job, that I've been a gentleman to him so far, so he should be a gentleman too. In response, the drunk starts cussing my mother again and spits - and that's when all hell breaks loose in the back for about 20 seconds and stops before I can pull over. The drunk is now crying like a 5-year-old and the father and son make him apologize and promise to STFU, which he did, except for the crying part. His face looked like a sack of potatoes.
Heading for the station now, I give an ETA and asked that a supervisor meet me at the processing entrance. I'm thinking to myself, "No way in hell is anybody gonna believe this sh*t..."
Arriving at the back door, I'm greeted by a delegation of supervisors (You never get just one, like you asked). They don't look happy to see us.
Somebody takes the 3 guys inside and the bosses want to know, right now, what the hell happened. So I tell them. They think I'm making it up. I'm told to start a memo: "Dear Chief..." while they separate the 3 guys and find out what really happened.
I'm on my 2nd or 3 third false start of a memo to explain the inexplicable when my boss Olla Estes (RIP) sits down across from me with a perplexed half grin on his face. He says, "How do you do it?"
"Do what?" I asked.
"Well," he said. "We took statements from everybody. The father and son say they beat the guy up because you were being a nice guy, and they didn't like the way the drunk was being disrespectful and cursing at you and your female relatives."
"Well, we knew that couldn't be true, so we went and talked to the drunk. The drunk says that he was being disrespectful, insulting, and verbally abusive to you and your female relatives, even though you were being a nice guy, that the father and son didn't like that, and after warning him to show some respect several times, they lumped him up after he cursed even more and spat in the truck." I just nodded my head.
"So, don't worry about the memo for now. I'd better do this one. Nobody is going to believe this..." As he was leaving, he turned back, "Oh, and before you go home, the drunk guy asked if he could apologize to you again in person. How do you do it?"
As I walked to my POV, the parking lot brightly lit by a brilliant desert full moon, I was pondering the last shift's bizarre events when I remembered what one of the hitchhikers said about "magia migra." It might be something to it. Naw...
Full Moon Magic
Help spread the word!
