It happened while my wife and I were visiting San Diego this weekend. As we sometimes do, we decided to go down to Tijuana to fill prescriptions. Because over there they're 60-70% cheaper. So we usually pick up a six month supply.
Rather than take our car or the trolley, we decide to take a taxi from the hotel to the border. However, the driver missed the last exit and ended up driving us into Mexico - something he hadn't planned on. Nor had we.
Once there, we told him he might as well take us to the pharmacy. And when we finished he could take us back across the border and to the hotel.
But when we returned to the border things got strange. It seems the driver didn't have his passport. And that's a requirement to get back into the U.S.
On top of that he's from Somalia. His name is Mohammed. And he speaks broken English. Now you get the picture.
Right away a customs agent directed him to a large inspection shed full of cars. In the shed were a few dozen other agents - some with dogs. Every once in a while they'd lead someone away in handcuffs. It didn't look good.
Because there are thousands of Africans named Mohammed with the same last name as the driver they weren't sure who he was. And we weren't going anywhere til they found out.
When we told the agents we were only passengers and didn't know this guy, they didn't seem to care. They were polite. But they acted like we might be his friends. We weren't allowed to leave the cab except to use the restroom.
Four hours late later - after running security checks on the driver, they searched the car. Then they questioned him. Then they questioned my wife. I felt rejected because they didn't bother with me. After that they let us go.
When we got back to the hotel the driver told us we didn't owe him for the trip. We paid him anyway. I figured he needed all the help he could get.
The day was a lesson in tolerance and acceptance.
