Tuesday, 3/19/02

Seven months. Seven seemingly endless months.

As I arrived at the airport for my westbound flight, I felt content yet subdued. I had last visited Tijuana the previous August. And my maiden TJ excursion, which now seemed like a part of the distant past, had transpired almost a year ago. How much had TJ changed in the interim?

The world had certainly changed since that day late last summer when I stepped onto the departing airplane at the San Diego airport, wondering when I'd make it back. At that time, airplanes were not considered means of mass destruction. The World Trade Center still stood, and everyone thought terrorists operated in other countries. You could actually carry a Swiss Army knife on your key chain without worrying about having it confiscated... or you being arrested.

All this was on my mind as I dealt with the new hassles at the airport... long lines, radar detectors, countless requests for ID, uniformed officials everywhere. I've always enjoyed air travel. But this time, I had a slight sense of uneasiness as I boarded the plane. This was my first flight since Sept. 11. Did I have the events of that day on my mind as the plane left the runway? You bet I did.

The flight was about as uneventful as could be. I arrived at LAX about 15 minutes behind schedule. There were extenuating circumstances which dictated that I had to fly in and out of LA, not San Diego. One of several logistical obstacles I would deal with on this trip.

I picked up a rental car, and before too long, found myself on 405 South. It was about 10:00pm. My plans were to check into my hotel, about thirty minutes north of San Diego... yet another logistical headache, but one I would only have to tolerate for the first two days. I would shower quickly, and continue driving to the border. I hoped to be in TJ by 12:30.

Shortly past the merge onto I-5, near Laguna Hills, my plans for the evening ground to a halt, along with my rental car. The left front tire blew out. I managed to steer off to the shoulder, but the tire was gone... shredded to pieces. There was a spare in the back, but no jack or wrench that I could find. "What, do they expect me to change the tire with my friggin' fingers?" I muttered to myself. To make matters worse, I didn't have my cell phone with me. It was pitch dark, and chilly. I looked up and down the road for a call box, but there was none in sight. This didn't look good... not at all.

But by a stroke of luck, I was situated near a highway exit, and there was a shopping center with a McDonald's near the bottom of the off-ramp. I called the rental car agency from a pay phone, and gave them a piece of my mind. How dare they deprive me of an evening in the company of beautiful Mexicanas! (no, I didn't say that… but maybe I should have)

Eventually, roadside service arrived, and installed the spare. Funny how easy it is when you have the tools handy. By the time I checked in to the hotel, it was 1:30. I was bushed, and opted to get a decent night's sleep instead of continuing on down to TJ.

Hardly an auspicious beginning to this trip. But things would get better. And more complicated.

I had no idea just HOW complicated things would become.

"Funny how easy it is when you have the tools handy."
--This could be another slogan for Club Hombre.

Yes, we are much more careful at security checks these days. Especially at the TJ Border. How do we know you aren't Osama Got Laden? OK. No more wise cracks for now. I gotta read the rest of the report...

All major CA highways have phones one mile apart. Good to remember if something happens and your not near an exit.