Border Patrol

The train left Chicago on time, but somewhere along the line, we lost progress and were running late. Maybe it was the constant slowing for the freight trains to pass. Maybe it was the horrible icy weather. Maybe it was mechanical failure - there had been an awful lot of steam spraying us as we tried to board the cars. We pulled into Erie, PA a full hour late. Surely not too many people would be getting on or off in Erie. The station was rather small.

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice asking,"Are you a citizen of the United States?"

I turned my head toward the aisle and greeted a tall well built young man with the brownest, softest eyes I had seen in a long time. His little pencil mustache was not smiling as he fingered his badge. Border patrol. I nodded my head. Unsatisfied, he asked, "Where are you from?"

"Rochester," I croaked, not having mastered yet the ability to say the word in one syllable as the native born do. He nodded and moved on, requiring everyone to respond vocally (was he checking to see if they had an accent?). He worked his way through the entire car, stopping in the last row to ask for identification.

"Gather all your belongings and follow me," he instructed the two young Asian ladies. And then the march began. There were four or five agents, each in a different car. They paraded their 'prisoners' down the aisle past us in little groups - Puerto Ricans, Mexicans, Russians, Asians. You could smell the fear, see the panic in their eyes. One woman lagged behind and sat quickly in a seat, scooching way over to the window, hoping to escape. They missed her on the first and second passes, then they caught on and her gig was up. Why didn't they just show their green card?

Altogether about two dozen were herded down the narrow aisle and out the door to the waiting cars, their pitiful belongings scattered on the ground as they were loaded up. The man across from me shook his head, disgusted. "I travel this route all the time. Why the h*** don't they card these people in Chicago instead of holding up the whole d*** train in Erie, making us all late? Stinkin' illegals," he grumbled.

Wait - I wanted to yell at him. Don't you care that their lives have just been halted? Did it ever occur to you that there might be children involved? You'd do the same thing if you were in their shoes. They must be scared to death, not to mention hungry or maybe ill. I felt sick to my stomach, half afraid myself. What was this country coming to? There has to be a better way.

We sat on the tracks for a good hour until the police were satisfied. Even then, one of them escaped and managed to make it to Rochester where he was captured by waiting patrolmen. I have a terrible headache. And I AM late.