BETH PALMER (journalism student) writes:
Before flying to Guadalajara for our three-week class, Maestra Puente told the five of us students what to expect from Mexican immigration. After border control stamps passports and baggage is claimed, a button must be pressed, she said. If it turns green, continue out the doors and into the airport’s meet-and-greet area. But if it turns red – which it never had in Puente’s dozens of prior visits – security will search all of your baggage.
Her warning lingered in our conversation – “When do we press the button?” I asked the other girls as we filed through Guadalajara border control.
“I hope I don’t get red,” Christy said.
After hours waiting at O’Hare International Airport earlier that day and then a nearly four-hour flight, none of us looked forward to a guard tearing apart our meticulously packed, incredibly stuffed bags.
We just wanted to get to our taxi.
I was the first of us five to approach the yellow traffic light that stood alone, adorned with two buttons and two sets of lights. I slung two bags over my right shoulder and balanced my duffel on my wheeled bag and reached out and pressed the button.
RED! The buzzer sounded off like a backing up truck and everyone in the baggage claim stared.
“Step to the side,” commanded the guard. “Place your bags on this table.” He pointed to a gray plastic counter. I laughed at my “luck” as I answered the his first question: “Is this your first time in Guadalajara?”
“Yes,” I said, still smiling as he unzipped my laptop bag. Then it struck me this was an airport – security was no joke, despite this game-show random roulette system of green and red lights. I tucked away my grin but at the same moment a twinkle appeared in the guard’s eye:
“Do you like tequila?”
“No!” I said, “I don’t drink!”
He had opened one zipper of a 10-plus pocketed computer bag and laid neither a hand nor an eye on my remaining four pieces of luggage.
“Have a nice trip,” he said.
Photo: Our group in Centro
