Posts Tagged ‘Nogales’

Infamous Quotes

January 4, 2012 Leave a comment

Here’s a list of entertaining quotes/summary of  random conversations had during a recent trip to Mexico… all quotes & commentary are recorded as I remember them, almost certainly paint me in the better light, and were probably much funnier if you’d been there.

Jason to me as we inhale fresh oranges bought at a traffic light from a street vendor in Nogales (Mexico)… “Don’t drop the orange peels. I’d rather be caught with drugs than citrus when we go back over the border.”

Jason to me, “Why would anyone own a timeshare in Branson, Missouri?”
Me to Jason, “Branson is like Vegas. For old people.”

Me to Jason after he’d either almost driven off a cliff, into a cliff wall, or taken out his undercarriage on a speed bump (I lost track of how many times each nearly happened), “You know what’s amazing? The number of times you’ve almost killed me, yet I still have total faith in your ability to keep me safe.”

Me to Jason as I’m getting in or out of the driver’s seat, “Is that a femur in the door pocket?”
Jason to me, “Yes. But don’t worry… it’s not human.”

Jason to me, somewhere between San Carlos & Magdalena de Kino… “Watch out for that cow. It wants to get hit. It’s really heavy. That would totally ruin our month.”

Jason to me as I navigate the narrow roads of Magdalena de Kino, “You’re doing a really good job… blah blah blah blah blah…”
Me to Jason, “I grew up driving in a town with streets just like this.”
Jason to me, “Yeah, but most people are really intimidated about driving in Mexico… blah blah blah blah blah…”
Me to myself  (in my head) cuz I have a suspicious nature and can see where this might be headed, “Cyndi… no matter what… DO NOT let him talk you into driving in Nogales.”

Jason’s response to my wounded expression after he’s told me whatever I haven’t eaten of the huge bag of peanuts just purchased from a street bump vendor will have to be thrown away before we get to the border checkpoint, “Was I in any way unclear regarding my feelings about agricultural inspections?” (see previousconvo about orange peels).

Jason to me, “I’m sorry for almost killing you.”
Me to Jason, “It’s OK. I only hit the windshield the one time.”

Waiting in line at border patrol, Jason to himself after he’s reminded me (again) how often he gets flagged for a secondary inspection (almost always) & what needs to be moved into the cargo area (the liquor) and what needs to be tossed (everything edible that once grew from the earth)… “Damn. The femur could be a problem.”

After about 45 minutes, maybe an hour in line at the border… me running around the car to take the wheel while Jason runs off to buy me tacos from a street vendor on the wrong side of the tracks… literally, the guy tried to send him to a titty bar… then Jason running back to give me the tacos… then running back across the tracks because the guy is running around trying to find change in dollars rather than pesos… then running back and getting in the car… then after I almost hit a street vendor in a wheelchair, jumping back out and running around the front of the car to the driver’s side so I can eat while I run around the back, shoveling tacos down as I go…

We’re still about 10th in line at border patrol and I’ve just finished inhaling the tacos. I turn to Jason and hold out a plastic bag, “We need to throw away these limes… there’s a trash can right over there. Give me the femur.”

Border Patrol Agent #2, as he’s looking into the back window, “They have pot.”
Border Patrol Agent #1: barely glances up from our passports.
Border Patrol Agent #2, returning to the driver’s side window: “Is that a cooking pot?”
Jason to Border Patrol Agent #2, “Yes, it’s a cooking pot.”
Border Patrol Agent #2 to Border Patrol Agent #1, “I told you they had pot.”
Border Patrol Agent #1 to Border Patrol Agent #2, “I believed you.” (still no expression whatsoever)

Border Patrol Agent #2, who is CLEARLY a smartass, “So how long was the wait? 10 minutes?”
Me to Border Patrol Agent #2, “15, maybe 20.”

Jason to me after we’re admitted back into the US without having to undergo a secondary inspection, “Damn. I totally could have kept the femur.”

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