Clearly, we look like drug dealers


One of the lovely features of life in Mexico is random stopping by police (if one is in a car of any sort) searching for drugs. Tonight Rocco and I were stopped by rather thuggish (and heavyset) cops who looked very much themselves to be part of some cartel. One guy took my California driver’s license (the only ID I had on me) and then proceeded to ask me some very clever questions along the lines of, “Where is California?” to which I responded “Capitol of France, where else?”. They continued with this line of questioning for about 10 minutes and then let us go with a grunt. I sure feel a lot safer knowing these guys are on the case protecting all of us from low priced cocaine.