As you approach Laredo, Texas, on I-35, a camera photographs your vehicle. If you look to the left, you will see the checkpoint where you will have to stop and answer some questions to U.S. government personnel dressed in military uniforms on the way back home. They may inspect your vehicle to see what you’re transporting. This makes for an intimidating encounter with the authorities for an ordinary citizen like me. I’ve crossed the border three times in the last year, and it doesn’t get any easier with each crossing. Each time is just as intimidating as the last. Yet, I plan to cross the border several more times.

When I travel south to Mexico, I’m an anomaly. I drive a compact car while everyone else seems to drive these huge gas-guzzling SUVs or pickups fully loaded with American goods such as stoves, washers, dryers, and who knows what else. Many of them also have a rooftop luggage carrier, a carrier that attaches to the rear bumper, and a little trailer. More often than not, all the vehicles bear California or Texas license plates. And they usually travel in caravans.

In Mexico, I drive a little above the speed limit at 120 km/h. I don’t want to attract any undue attention. However, I think I do because I am often passed by these caravans as if I were standing still. I always look into the passing vehicles, but no one ever looks back or even acknowledges my existence. We are all in our own little cocoons trying not to attract attention from the Mexican authorities or criminals.

Coming back to the U.S. is also quite interesting. Suddenly, all these caravans that were rushing to Mexico are now rushing back to the U.S. And most are still just as loaded, but with Mexican goods and products for the return trip. Usually, it takes about an hour to cross the border back into the U.S. But when I crossed on January 2, 2009, I had to wait about nine hours to reach Laredo. Everyone was returning to the U.S. after the holidays at about the same time. I was about two miles from the border when the traffic suddenly came to a standstill. I hadn’t expected to see so much traffic. We moved a few feet every few minutes. I had a lot of time to look around at my surroundings. I took a picture of the palm trees with Christmas lights with my iPhone. Then, I noticed all the vehicles that were approaching the border. I think the average American would be surprised by this huge onslaught of Mexicans entering the U.S. Yes, me, too. I don’t mean me as surprised, but rather as another Mexican constituting the onslaught.

As I looked at the license plates, I noticed that they were from all over the U.S. I saw plates from Alabama, Arizona, Iowa, California, Texas, Nevada, Oklahoma, Missouri, Oregon, Florida, Illinois, Ohio, Utah, North Carolina, South Carolina, Indiana, Nebraska, Virginia, Wisconsin, Colorado, Georgia, Tennessee, and Arkansas. I’m sure that there were other states represented, but I didn’t get to see them. All the occupants of these vehicles were Mexicans of all shapes, sizes, and colors. And I assume that everyone had documentation to enter the U.S. otherwise they would not be attempting to enter at U.S. Customs checkpoint. I also saw one car with Ontario license plates, but they didn’t look Mexican. Neither did the people in the BMW SUV with what I thought were German license plates.

At first, I was bothered by the fact that I had to wait for so long. Then, I just made the best of the situation and took pictures, wrote down the states of the license plates, read my blogs on my iPhone, and took catnaps whenever possible. I arrived in Nuevo Laredo at about 9:00 pm, but didn’t reach Laredo until 6:30 am! Good thing I had gotten plenty of sleep the previous few nights. I know the next time I go to Mexico, I’ll make it a point not to return to America too soon after New Year’s Day in order to avoid all the traffic. Live and learn.

Driving in Mexico requires the development of a different set of skills that are not acquired from driving in the USA. Americans tend to obey the rules of the road, unless they think no one is watching. Mexicans, on the other hand, view all traffic signs and signals as mere suggestions. In general, driver’s courtesy is nonexistent.

Don’t think you have the right of way just because you have the green light. Oh, no! In Mexico, es la ley del más rápido. Survival of the swiftest! Be prepared to be cut off by that unseen, rapidly approaching car coming out from seemingly nowhere! You must always be prepared to slam on your brakes for those occasions. Heaven help you if you collide with another vehicle. For, El que pega, paga. That’s right! The striking vehicle must pay for the damages, regardless of whose fault it really was.

In Mexico City, you’re either flooring the gas pedal or slamming on the brakes. It’s one extreme or the other. And unless you’re thoroughly familiar with the area, you will end up driving the wrong way down a one-way street. I know I did it a few times. What surprised about my mistake is how courteous and patient Mexican drivers were with my mistake. Was it because of my Illinois license plate? Or the fact that I was driving head on into three lanes of traffic with all oncoming cars speeding toward me. I imagined a deadly game of chicken, but instead, all the drivers stopped and allowed me to turn around and drive in the correct direction. Then I remembered that the striking vehicle must pay, so of course, everyone wants to avoid accidents.

Another contributing factor to all this driving madness is the layout of all the streets that rarely follow the grid pattern of modern cities like Chicago. Streets in Mexico City curve and angle like a tangled mess of spaghetti. It’s not unusual to have to accelerate to merge with high-speed traffic, quickly change three or four lanes, and then practically slam on the brakes to make a turn. Oh, what fun!

As I’m driving to Mexico from Chicago, I notice how flat the terrain is compared to the mountains I will negotiate once I enter Mexico. On the U.S. side there were some rolling hills along the way, but nothing compared to the steep grades in the Mexican mountains that sometimes cause my car to sputter on the way up. And as if that weren’t scary enough, some roads actually run alongside the edge of a cliff for long distances. They don’t believe in guardrails in Mexico. Talk about the thrill of adventure!

In Laredo, the streets are gridlocked with traffic from Christmas shoppers. Everyone seems to gravitate toward Wal-Mart where I went to use their ATM. I actually had to wait in line to drive into the parking lot. Everyone, Mexicans and non-Mexicans alike, is speaking Spanish here. This part of town sure feels like Mexico right now. A lot of Mexicans came to Laredo to shop for the holidays. One man told me that he came all the way from Monterrey. I don’t quite understand it. There are plenty of Wal-Marts in Mexico, which I like because that’s were I can get Mexican pesos with my ATM card. This is my fifth time here in a year, but this is the most crowded that I’ve seen it. I can’t wait to drive into Mexico and get out of here. As my mother said when asked why she was moving out of Back of the Yards, “Too many Mexicans!”