Border closed? How can that be? Terrorist plot? Are we at war with Mexico? Maybe a drug cartel his holding the immigration officers hostage. Nope. A wooden overhead canopy collapsed onto several vehicles at the crossing, sending 11 people to hospitals and creating a traffic nightmare as thousands of border crossers were diverted to the Otay Mesa Port of Entry. That would be us.
In the pandemonium we found an official looking cab driver who took us on a wild ride to the Otay Mesa crossing. $15 each for a 15 minute carnival ride weaving in and out of traffic lanes. We hopped into the dusty queue not knowing that it would take us three hours to get to the revolving gates. Three hours in the hot sun. Three hours without sustenance. Three hours without a pee break.
Then to the MTS #905 bus to the Iris Trolley stop. The driver, off her shift, called her supervisor and got permission to take a bus load of stranded riders to the Trolley. We all rode for free, chanting and cheering.
By that time Alaska flight 885 had left San Diego without us.
Hours later, ensconced in the Vagabond Hotel at Shelter Island, I convinced the Alaska supervisor to cut us a deal on return flights early the next morning to Seattle. Crack of dawn flight home and so tired that I napped away the day, calling in sick to work.
I'm miles away from my boat.
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