PDX-SMA in a single day...just barely

We were so organized with suitcases by the front door that when the alarm went off at 3:30 we were out the door faster than we expected with the water turned off, pipes drained, “vampires” unplugged and on the way to San Miguel. We walked the empty streets, too early for even the busses to run, and got to the MAX station just as the earlier train pulled in. We had plenty of time to enjoy a breakfast at the Beaverton Bakery concession at the airport and some free wireless. Good ol’ PDX.

The transfer at San Francisco went smoothly, despite waiting 50 minutes on the runway for our turn, and in Mexico we breezed through baggage claim, immigration, customs and maze of hidden staircases that is the Mexico City airport and walked right on to the bus for Queterero.

We’re cool, until we bought the ticket for our last leg, the 10pm bus to San Miguel. When it finally arrived 30 minutes late it was the slow bus that stopped at random dark pulloffs to take on and discharge passengers. By the time we arrived in SMA and got a taxi up the hill it was 11:50 and we had made it in a day.

The one place where our easy progress might have fallen down was the customs inspection. The book I was reading on the plane (The Virgin’s Guide to Mexico by Eric B. Martin) has a great description of this process. A young runaway girl, walking across the Mexican border crossing for the first time, is amazed how easy it is, first getting her visa: … From there she bustles to the next event, a playhouse traffic light at waist level with a button on the side. If the light turns green Mr. Playhouse Guard waves folks free and clear into his waiting country with a disgusted flick of the wrist. She watches as he admits convicts, pimps, bigamists , child molesters and abductors, arms dealers, dope fiends, terrorists. Green green green green. They’re letting everybody in, with everything they got. She starts to fear the law of averages, she fears red and the great unknown, Officer Playhouse snapping his favorite cavity search gloves as she steps up to bat. Pushes the button. Happy happy green. Tax evaders, evangelists, runaways. Ladies and gentlemen: Mexico.

This does seem to sum up our Mexican customs experiences; we’ve been fortunate with happy happy green over the many years we have been visiting Mexico except for once. No cavity search gloves; I had one of those plastic locking ties that TSA uses on my suitcase and after x-raying it they didn’t have any scissors to cut it off to open my suitcase so they just let us go.