The trip to the border took us over four hours, which would have been perhaps three if we hadn’t stopped three times along the way. The old lady on board had a bladder problem. We tried to keep our distance from others and stay in the back. We never got off the bus, even though we had the option.
Crossing the border seemed quick; a border guard boarded the bus, with the driver being interrogated outside; it was nothing unusual. One by one, we were asked to show our passports. The border guard looked at Madeline and me.
“Americans?” he inquired.
I nodded, tilting my head up. He handed me back the passport, then looked over at Madeline’s passport as well before handing it back to her. He took Antonio’s document and carefully inspected it for quite a while. I was sure he was going to inter
