International Excursion - Interim Update

Tuesday night we had a look through a whole bag full of leaflets, and decided that Houston wasn't really a major point to hang around in. There's stuff to see and do, but nothing in particular for a pair of gentlemen approaching 30 years of age. The trip to Mexico was brought forward.

Chappers hired a new car. A lovely if somewhat comical 'truck' (as they call them out here). A Dodge Ram 3500, with a double wheel set-up on the rear axle. It has the turning circle of the QE2, and in parking garages it takes two to four spaces. Utterly pointless for our needs.

Around 11am we struck out south for Corpus Christi. We wanted to avoid the interstates and major highways, so we headed first for a town called Angleton, half way to the gulf coast from the city. We pulled into a small diner near a one-road town, something-or-other Prairie. Great coffee, lovely eggs, but the bacon was frazzled. Why can't the Americans do a simple bacon sandwich? They can put a man on the moon but a good old bacon buttie eludes them. Culinary nightmares aside, as we pulled out we saw a group of six kids hitch-hiking. No way would a group so large get a lift from a trucker, a family, or someone on their own. We took pity on them - or rather I did. I've tried to hitch-hike around Britain with varied success, so I wholly appreciated their plight. They asked us if we would take them to the main highway, or at least to Bay City. I asked if they were headed to Houston or somewhere significant and we could drop them on the right side of whichever route they wanted. When they said they were headed for Mexico to find some Latinas to party with, they were in luck! So, happy we were going so far their way, they climbed in. Three in the back seat, three in the truck-bed with all their bags. They were already quite giggly and clearly had something a little naughtier than Ribena in their bags, making us all the better for them since they could now party on down to the border and not worry about having to stand upright waiting for lifts.
We drove through various small towns, over some unimaginative bridges, and across plenty of super-engineered farm land. Around a place called Fulton the landscape was quite odd. Shrimping boats and sea to one side, small town could-be-anywhere America to the other. No sort of tangible "we're at the seaside!" atmosphere the whole way down much of that road, apart from the smell of the coast, and occasional boats.
Eventually we hit Corpus Christi, found a motel for the kids, and offered to take them the next leg. They accepted, and went to destroy their livers and brain cells on whatever they had with them. They were clearly under 21, so goodness know how they had sourced their booze. I didn't want to know either. Plausible deniability should we be stopped by the police, and get pinned with being their responsible adults.
Morning came, and we called for the kids. Six had become five overnight as one of the boys parents had driven through the night to drag them home again, leaving around half an hour before we arrived. It was early o'clock and they weren't impressed, but they could either come along or find another ride. Their call.

We reached the border in a blur of countryside. We had intended to cross over at Hidalgo, but the boys were wanting to party near the coast, so we headed to Brownsville. Border control was easy enough, despite being foreign nationals ferrying five sheepish sweaty-palmed kids cramming chewing gum and breath freshener down their throats - two of them carried unsafely and probably illegally in the truck bed. I honestly expected us to be told they would have to cross by foot, but we were given our stamps and DNI forms, and were soon waved through. We crossed the magnificent Rio Grande, and dropped the boys in down town Matamoros, and you could see the colour drain from every one of them at the same time as they realised they were in another country, probably without parental permission. Everyone looked and sounded different to small-town Texas, and they were out of their depth. I reckon at least one of them will come back missing an organ and be none the wiser, they're so clueless. I almost feel guilty, but it's their tough shit. They want to party with the big boys in an exciting country then they should either be prepared, or be fast to adapt.
Chappers and I switched seats, and he drove as far as General Bravo, where we switched back and I finished the run to Monterrey. The scenery on the approach was breathtaking. Curiously shaped mountains, and ridges to our front and left, with valleys and hills peering through the farmland to our right. The next few days were promising! We stopped to refuel at Cadareyta. Chappers disappeared to the bathroom, and came back with a big grin on his face. I'm growing wary of that look! It usually means something is about to go hideously wrong. No disasters this time though, just a total upheaval. He'd taken a phone call, and relayed to me the change of plans it represented. We were to head straight to the airport, instead of finding a hotel in the city. He refused to tell me any more from then until now, where we currently sit in the departure lounge waiting for a flight to... Houston. The city we left about 48 hours ago, and just drove two whole days south away from, into a foreign country!

I'm a bit confused as to what we're doing since we have a hire car from the USA that we're leaving in long term parking, so I can only assume we're heading back soon, but I'm rather lost for ideas what the score is. It's like when your parents used to bundle you into the car as a kid and tell you that the whole family was going somewhere exciting. Unless they told you exactly where it was you were headed, then a visit to the dentist would have been more exciting until you could work out your destination. I hate this sort of surprise!

Ciao for now.