Profiled at The US/Mexican Border

By kiki

 Circa 1990, the company Connie had worked for over thirty years was sold. About three years later, the new owner announced that he was moving the company to the maquiladora (industrial) section of Meza De Otay (a few miles east of Tijuana). Connie was offered a chance to move south with the company. Hence, she asked me if we could go. At that time, I was getting ready to retire, so I said, "sure, but first, we need to negotiate a package for you" So, we set a luncheon date with the company's management team to do so. Connie wasn't sure I could handle the negotiations, so to put her at ease, I told her, "Babe if I can negotiate with Don King and Bob Arum, I can handle this" At the luncheon, I put forth a package; that I had worked on on the bargaining table. In that package, we asked for a $1,000 rent allowance a month, a 20% increase in salary, a five-year salary guarantee, plus the benefits she already had (401K, one month paid vacation, medical insurance, etc.) The company's team pushed back on our demands, but we prevailed on all counts.

So in early April of 1993, we made an appointment with a San Diego Coldwell Banker Real Estate office to look for a house close to the border. After seeing a few places, we settled on a 3-bedroom home on the hills above Bonita in south San Diego County. In mid-April, we moved south, and Connie had a week to rest and do some test runs to the border (back and forth crossing)

By mid-May, we were getting used to the routine of her going to work and me lying around the house or riding my Harley to different parts of San Diego and a few times into Tijuana - It was then that I started my career as a kept man.

"Profiled At The US/Mexican Border"

So did we get profiled as Latinos? I did a couple of times: And here's how it went down: Connie, at times, had to work a few hours on Saturday mornings, so when she did, I would drive her across the border so that after work, I could pick her up on the Harley and we could then ride to Tecate for tacos and beer. 

I was making my return trip across the border one Saturday morning, and when I got to the border, a border agent, a black woman, asked me for my citizenship (back then, you didn't need a passport to cross back and forth into Tijuana). I answered, "American" she then asked me, "how did you become a citizen?" "Huh?" was my reply. she repeated, "how did you become a citizen?" my answer to that was, "the same way you did; I was born in the good ole US of A" she was not about to let me have the last word, so she asked me "and how do you know that I was born in the USA?" I was enjoying the back and forth with the agent, so I told her, "well, I sure in hell don't think you were born in Africa" at that, she figuratively started spouting flames out of her nostrils; she was screaming and yelling at me. Finally, she was so out of control that I told her, "listen, I don't want to talk to you anymore, so call your supervisor" after taking a few deep breaths, she called her boss. He was an older gentleman that asked me what the problem was, and after I explained my side of the story, he told me, without talking to the agent, "be on your way" I did, and as I drove off, I could see the agent on the rearview mirror with her hands on her hips looking at me go off.

Another time I was crossing back after dropping Connie off, a Filipino dude/agent, in very bad English, asked me what my citizenship was. "American," I replied. He then pointed to the long line of cars behind me and said, "you see all those guys behind you? They all say American, too" I turned around and looked at the cars and said, "yeah, they are all my cousins" with that, he told me, "get out of here."

If we all look alike, we'll get profiled, que no?

After three years (1996), the company's owner decided to close the plant because of the corruption in Tijuana; the Tijuana bosses would always see him for the mordida (bribe). So we left Bonita in April 1996, with Connie getting a buyout on her contract's two remaining years. Colwell, who had plants worldwide, offered Connie a job in their Fort Wayne, Indiana, plant. So she was flown out to Fort Wayne for a plant tour there, and when she came back, she asked me, "well, what do you think, do we go?" I said to her, "no way, I ain't going there to freeze my ass" – All in all, we spent a great three years down south.