No puede pasar

I skipped New Year’s Eve (the good part anyway) in order to drive to the Atlanta airport in time to make my flight to Merida. I woke up at 5:30 A:M to the sound of my brother teetering around the kitchen after enjoying the full measure of the night. Frustration quickly transformed to opportunity and I was on the road before the sun, with most of the revelers tucked away in bed, jail, or various ditches around the rural counties of Georgia.

By 11:30 A:M I was crying in shock as the airline informed me my passport was expired and I absolutely, no way in hell, was going to Mexico.

I crossed the border last night into Matamoros, a long way away from Merida, but it is definitely Mexico.

The water wasn’t even cold.


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