English 230, Econ 322, Phil 140, Soc 365**
Carlos knew his friends too well. The trip had been planned for months and everyone was expecting a wild adventure. But he had an uneasy feeling about this one. Sure, they had been across the border together often and had many g reat lies to share. And they had never been caught! That was one of the charms of these trips. The feeling of being on the edge, but somehow everything falling into place. "Just a few nerves," Carlos thought.
Not that these trips were particularly dangerous, the group made them as regularly as they could. But there were cultural differences. Crossing from good fun into taboo was not unknown for these guys. Sometimes it was just impossible to know where that line was -and even harder to stop before it was trampled. The band's junkhad been loaded into La Turista Grande. The seven of them could fit comfortably if someone had a lap free. They were a tight group.
Despite a crowd at the border, they crossed without incident. The border had always been the easy part. No interrogations about citizenship papers, no additional inspections. Just don't acttoo nervous and you were home free.
Carlos began to relax. Before leaving, they had discussed bringing contraband and agreed it was risky. The companeros might have problems avoiding attention anyway. The consensus thought was to leave it at home. "This damn car is 'probable cause ' enough,"said Jorge. It was one headache they knew they didn't need. Having cleared the border, the temptation to "enhance" the visit with the flavor of home was gone. "Si," thoughtCarlos, "it will be a relaxing trip." ;
Things had been going very well. They made it through the metropolitan area, including a stop for libations and provisions, without making much of a scene. The rednecks were satisfied to leave them aloneand nobody had seen much of la policia.
Heading north and into the rural countryside, the trip had settledinto a comfortable sync. Jose was rummaging through the grocerybag for snacks. "Anyone want a banana?" he inquired. Esteban replied, "Anybody want a hit?". There was s ilencein La Turista Grande. Sure enough, Esteban had brought six largebottles of the finest home-made rotgut mescal. "I thought we might need this," he said. After the predictable deluge of unprintables regarding Esteban's lineage, it was time to reckon with the reality.
Juan laid it out, "If we're caught with this, were looking at deportation, jail time, or worse. We sure as hell better not have any of that left when we get back to the border." Esteban said, "Yeah, like we're going to dump it out?" Everyone agreed that dumping it was out of the question. "That leaves two options," said Juan. "We either drink it all now, or just keep it low profile and pace ourselves so that the evidence is gone when we head back across." Recogni zing that the trip would be a continuous hangover if they hammered it all then and there, it was grudgingly agreed that the contraband would slowly dissipate along the route.
That hurdle behind them, the trip went remarkably well. Things kept on an even pace and the 'taste of home' was relaxing. They made it to a sleazy dive motel in a resort area and wandered the streets. The shops had the standard tourist junk and wanted t oo much for it. But they did find a club where some of the "localtalent" was dancing. Esteban was lucky to get out with hisshirt on. But it was all legit. The companeros had some money they were willing to part with and the locals were satisf ied toget some of it.
They began the trip back and had scheduled their sessions with the mescal well. A quick hit that morning as they arrived at a great vista, you could have seen for miles if the smog ever cleared. They were down to the last round. A stop had been planned to enjoythe beach, then south and back home. After hanging out at the water awhile, everyone began to pack up and Jorge went back to grab the last refreshment. As the group began to wander back to La Turista Grande, the ugly truth began to unfold. Par ked behind the car was a local police cruiser. And Jorge was trying to explain away the contraband.
As each of the group returned, the cops checked everyone's wallet for identification and other pertinent information. The cops asked if there was any more in the car, obviously pleased with whatthey had found. After being told repeatedly that the one bo ttle was the last of it, they loaded Jorge, then Manuel, Esteban, and Juan into the back seat of the cruiser. Jose was told to follow the police car back to the station with the rest of the group.
Things appeared bleak when Jose started leading the police cruiser back to town. The cops seemed upset and asked their prisoners,"What's your buddy doin'? He's supposed to follow us."La Turista Grande came to a stop when the cruiser closed in behind and hit the siren a few times. It was time for arraignment. "This is a very serious crime in our country," one cop said. " In your own country, you would have to pay a large fine for this crime." Jorge corrected the officer, & quot; This isn't such a big deal back home. It doesn't cost much even if you do get caught." "But possession of contraband is a serious crime. It would cost you about three hundred dollars in court," the cop replied. Slowly, the purpose of this situation dawned on the men sitting cramped in the back seat of the police cruiser." Actually, I think that it would only cost about ninety dollars,"offered Jorge. The cop sat looking for a moment, performing some mental math. The guys in the cruiser were digging through their wallets and pants, counting the few dollars they had left. Juan advised, "We have thirty-seven dollars, would that be enough?"The cops huddled, speaking in their own language for a moment. Then one cop got out and open the door for Juan. "See how much money your friends have," the cop told him. After some discussion and pooling of funds at La Turista, Juan returned. He stood at the passenger window of the cruiser and held out the money to t he cop. "We've got ninety-seven dollars,"he said. Uncomfortable with the blatant payoff attempt, the cops started shouting at him to get back in the car. He got in and closed the door.
After a moment of settling down, the cops figured that the ninety-seven dollars was an adequate fine for possession of contraband. The money passed through the wire screen and one of the cops said,"You people are welcome in our country, but leave you r contraband at home. You can get out of the car." Juan realized that he had closed the door as he had gotten back in and asked, "Can you let us out?" The cops looked at each other, chuckled a bit, then opened the back door. Jorge, the last to get out of the cruiser, reminded the cops that they shouldn't spend the money all in one place. While everyone hastily returned to La Turista Grande, the police car drove off.
Incrimination, foul language, and analysis followed on the remaining distance to the border. Fortunately, the group left in La Turista didn't cough up all of their money to pay the "bail". They stopped for a drink and a bottle (legal this time) at the border city and then kept south. Heavy traffic and La Turista's dubious mechanical condition made for slow progress. While approaching the border crossing, the car's electrical system went dead. They pushed the car across and back onto native soil . It was dark by then and they holed up for the night with relatives in town. Checking the system in the morning, they found that the battery itself had unbolted and was shorting hot to ground. After a fresh charge,they were on their way home.
** This paper has been used for a variety of courses, with varying degrees of success. See the above list of course numbers. This is one of the writing styles you can learn by participating in the Marching Lumberjack Study Group at Humboldt State. This st ory is fictional. Any resemblance of the accounts in this story to events or persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All rights reserved.
