BBD – Yet Another Border Crossing That Wasn’t

If you thought the car coincidence in the previous post was odd, note the mention of Border Patrol.

There’s this guy. Let’s call him Herman.

Herman is about 6’5″ and likely nearly 300 pounds. But he is a simple but gentle giant. Never seen him angry, though I don’t know him all that well. Let’s call him a friend of a friend visiting from out of state.

He likes beer. The funny thing is, he is one of those people who I absolutely cannot tell the difference as to whether he is sober or has had several beers. There is no detectable difference in speech or movement that I observed. This lead me to think that there is no difference, that he holds his beer pretty well, because the guy can really slam them.

During last night’s festivities, he disappeared twice from the location where the rest of the crew were. By the end, he was basically MIA.

Eventually he called and I, as designated driver, was able to determine his whereabouts roughly. I calculated how long it would take me to reach a good landmark: the local train station. Told him I’d meet him there.

When I reached it, he was nowhere to be found. I drove down the direction he would have been coming but didn’t see him. I turned around and headed back to the train station and called him again. He said he was walking on the railroad tracks.

This was especially alarming because as I approached the train station, the railroad lights were flashing, the alarms blaring, and the mechanical arms were down.

“You might want to get off the tracks,” I said. “The train is coming.”

“You see that train?”

“Yeah. I’m right next to it,” as it zoomed in front of me. Not a passenger train, this was cargo.

He let me know when the train was going by him. After, he started on about a tunnel.

“You know where the train just went into the tunnel?”

“Not really. You do know that I can’t drive on the train tracks, right? You should just turn around now and come back–”

“I’m going into the tunnel.”

“I’d really strongly advise again==”

“I’ll make my way back. Battery is running low. Gotta hang up.”


So I start the drive back, thinking.

Where does that tunnel even go? Let’s see…direction… Shit. Canada.

That’s it. He’s dead. We’ll get a call in the morning. Best case scenario, angry C&BP drop him home. Of he gets shot by US BP. Or he makes it far enough he gets shot by Canadian BP. Or he gets held by US for two days or Canada for two weeks..

Must have been an hour after that the phone rings again. He has met up with US Border Patrol. They had a camera somewhere near the tunnel. He’s lost his wallet in the tunnel. I get his location and head out yet again.

After I pick him up, he related the following, with perhaps just a little embellishment or filling in the blanks. But just a little.

He got tired of the tunnel, walked back out and called the police because “he was lost.” When BP arrived soon after, he was already on the phone with the dispatcher. There was a fence between him and the BP lady.

She told him that he needed to get out of there immediately.

“What are you being mean for?”

“You need to get out of there.”

“That’s no reason to be mean…”

He handed her the phone through the fence and let her speak to the police dispatcher.

“Look, you’re in an International area. You can’t be in there. You have to get out.”

“But you don’t have to be mean. I lost my wallet–”

“Sir, I’ll get you the phone number of the train company and you can call them tomorrow.”

“But you don’t have to be mean.”

“I am not being mean. I am following procedures. Now, please…”

He climbs the fence.

“You didn’t have to be mean about it.”

“Stop saying that!”

I gather he would have been arrested but–not shitting you==some guy who “escaped” from the hospital ran up, IV still in arm, bleeding all over the place, demanding an ambulance.

So, how was your evening?


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