Livin’ It Up In Tijuana / Down ‘n’ Out in San Ysidro

So there I was, panhandling for change from anyone with an ounce of compassion who’d listen to a strange Asian Dude’s down on his luck schpiel… Got your attention? Good! Let’s go back to the beginning shall we?

This all began a few months ago, when I learned that border laws had changed and no longer would it be a matter of producing my driver’s license upon reentry of The United States coming back from a day in T.J. I heard many rumors about what I would need in order to get back into The United States without any problems. Some people said I would need to apply for a new Pass Card or have my Passport. Some people said that I would need a certified birth certificate and a driver’s license. Others said If I used my birth certificate, I would be charged a fine. I decided, “Enough with all this speculation! I’m gonna settle this once and for all!” I grabbed my birth certificate and my driver’s license, hopped in my car and drove down to San Diego.

Now, the first thing I want to tel you is that I brought with me my driver’s license (of course) but on the matter of the birth certificate; I have an official birth certificate with the official seal and everything. Not some bullshit I printed off the internet. This is the real deal, I had to go to City Hall to get it.

Anyway, I take the 805 to the LAST US EXIT in San Ysidro. Park my car at the $10 parking lot, make sure I have my keys, wallet, cell phone and most importantly my driver’s license and official birth certificate. I walk up to a security guard. He looks at me and grunts, “What’s YOUR story, buddy?”

“Uh yes, I just wanted to know if I have my birth certificate and driver’s license with me if I’ll be able to get back into the U.S. without any hassel.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“OK, cool. Thanks!”

So I make the trek through the border crossing and end end up on the filthy streets of Tijuana. I already knew where I was going; to the busy shopping street, Revolucion. It’s a short ten minute trek by foot along the decaying streets of Tijuana, but since it was in the middle of the day, I wasn’t worried about it. All along the way dodging toddlers trying to sell me chicklets and trinkets and being sure to cross the street only when the light was green so as to avoid having to bribe policia. No matter how many times I go to TJ, it always blows my mind how one moment, you’re in the United States where there are building codes, traffic, and safety laws and then next you’re in Mexico where the streets and sidewalks have giant pot holes and the buildings are all dilapidated and run down and being getting squashed by a car is a very real possibility. Using the giant metal structure that can be seen for miles around, I triangulated my position and made a b line for Revolucion. Moving passed meandering tourists and half drunk college kids I was coming closer to my destination. Over head I could hear the laser gun twangs of the metal cables being tweaked the wind that held aloft the enormous metal structure that marked the foot of Revolucion. I would go to my favorite farmacia and purchase some cheap medication as part of my experiment. After procuring a bottle of 800mg ibuprofen and some low grade antibiotics, I headed back to America, but not before I bought a bag of little churros from a street vendor for the walk back. Now, mind you for the record: Buying medicine in Mexico isn’t recommended for everyone. It’s just that I’m broke and can’t afford it here. And more importantly this was all a part of putting to rest any fears and myths about bringing stuff back and declaring things and crossing back into the United States i general. As long as the medicine is not a controlled substance, meaning not something addictive and controversial, I have never really heard of anyone getting hassled at the border.

OK, so back to my story. It’s always a good idea to get your shopping done or whatever it is you’re doing before sundown. Why? Because everyone and their grandmother heads back to the U.S. side at Sundown en masse and you could find yourself standing in line just to get into the border building for several hours. That said, I got back to the border at about 2pm. There were no lines leading up to the border and I waltzed inside. Now here is the part I always get nervous at. You never know if the border agent is going to decide that you look suspicious or whatever. So I always tell people this, dress non descript. Don’t wear sloppy ass clothing or appear unkempt. Also, don’t wear a turban. Alright, so I get to the border agent and I pull out my wallet and Driver’s License and produce my birth certificate from an envelope. The agent sort of looked at it and didn’t say anything. Was I good to go? “Uh, thank you.” said and I hurried through the gate before he changed his mind. That was WAY easier than anything pre 9/11 I’d ever heard of or dealt with. Normally, they will ask you if you are an American Citizen and ask if you are declaring anything that you’re bringing back with you. This guy did neither! I wasn’t worried about what I was declaring because it didn’t fall into anything under that controlled substance category. However, to put any paranoid people or people bringing back any questionable medicine at ease, the basic layout of the building is that you get in line and the border agent sits on a raised counter at the end of each line. They can’t see below your waist once you get up to where you talk to them and they’re government workers so do you really think they’re going to make the effort to stand up from their comfy chair, then lean over to look at your pants and then ask you what you have in your pockets? It’s up to your discretion about what you want to do, So take it for what it’s worth.

I was elated! I made it through without a hitch! Yeah riiiight! After bragging to my friends and sitting in my car, I realised my wallet was missing!!! Shit! I remembered putting it in my pants pocket when I was leaving the border crossing. Could someone have stolen it? Possibly, but if any of you know me, I lose everything! Keys, cell phones and now, my walet! I’m sure I didn’t put it back in my pocket well enough and it must have popped out. New pants, I don’t know how deep the pockets work. So then it dawns on me. I don’t even have enough money to get out of the parking lot. The snot nose kid at the gate was less than understanding with my tale of woe. “Either you get the money or we tow it.” I was in an absolute panic.

OK.OK. Calm down. I thought to myself.

“Alright, so can I just repark and beg for the money?”

“I guess so.” the kid said.
I re parked my car and psyched myself up for something I never thought I’d ever have to do: Beg like a homeless man. This daunting proposition for yours truly is two fold; One, I have pride and the thought of having to beg for money kills me. And two, I am a complete sissy when it comes to rejection; dating, jobs, you name it. I don’t deal well with rejection. However, desperate times call for desperate measures. I sucked it up and began hitting up people for change. Once I got my hard luck story in order, “Excuse me, my wallet got stolen and I need $10 to get my car out of the parking lot or they said they’re going to tow it. If you could spare any change, it would great!” I started getting into a rhythm while avoiding the beat cops.

Now this is the interesting part;as I begged for money, I began taking sort of a poll on the types of reactions that I was getting and the patterns that began to emerge. Now as an veteran beggar of about 15 minutes, I can tell you that you very quickly can size up and stereotype they types of people that are kind and the ones that are dicks. Now maybe other beggars can argue with me, but there are definite trends that I saw. For one, middle aged caucasion men are assholes when it comes to people asking for handouts; they either ignore you or say fucked up things to you. I hit up an old hippy lady for change and she gave me a buck. She probably empathized with me as she had a mini flashback to all those summers following Phish around New England and living off handouts.

Now maybe this is squewed because there happened to be more Latinos there because of where I was, but every single Latino person I pestered, stopped and listened to what I had to say. Some didn’t even know English and they apologized for not knowing English. One lady gave me a bus ticket. I would have to say though, that Latina women aged 18-48 were by far the most compassionate for the down trodden such as myself. I mean they gave me dollars, not change. The last lady, that helped me was an absolute saint! I told her I needed $4 more bucks and she gave me a Fiver! I thanked her profusely and she smiled, “Don’t worry about it!” I responded with , “You are absolutely gorgeous! God Bless you!” and I ran off to the parking lot attendant before he decided to tow my car. And yes, she was gorgeous. So take that for what it’s worth.

So all’s well that ends well… Mostly. I learned more than what I went down there for to say the least. Got a new life experience in not worrying so much about rejection and was reminded that there is still compassion left in this world. Now of course I have to get a new driver’s license and several other cards that were in my wallet, but a small price to pay for the lesson learned. My father always tells me that we can learn much more from our mistakes than from our successes. Funny, then how come I’m not a genius by now? So I’m out $50 and if someone wants to steal my identity, good! They can inherit my debt and no assets as well! I for one will be much more compassionate to people with hard luck stories on the street, instead of ignoring them. If the story is good enough I’ll give em a dollar or two or buy em a sandwich!

BTW, even though I proved that you can cross safely by foot with your offical birth certificate and driver’s license, it’s probably in everyone’s best interest to obtain at least the new Pass Card so you can go to Mexico and Canada by car or by foot. Better yet, get a Passport so you can go anywhere. ind you it takes about a month to send out to you after you go to the post office and apply for it.