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| Hitching a ride with a truck through Nevada. |
We were woken up by the bus driver at an ungodly hour as we approached the
Mexico-US border at Ciudad Juárez. In a daze, we disembarked and joined the queue. I looked around and it slowly dawned on me that everything was in English: this was the US border control. But we hadn’t yet had our passports stamped for exit out of Mexico! The bus driver must have assumed that everyone on the bus was Mexican and not bothered to stop at the Mexican post. I sheepishly asked a guard what we should do. She made it quite clear that they didn’t really care what happened or didn’t happen on the Mexican side – all they were concerned with was whether or not we should be allowed into the US.
