U.S. Citizen? Why, yes, I am!

If you've never had the pleasure of leaving the city of Laredo, then you'll have no idea what this is.  No, this isn't me trying to get into some major theme park, although, that would be really nice.  This is a border patrol checkpoint.  Since Laredo is THE hippest way to get in and out of Mexico, they've set up this massive checkpoint to make sure everybody that leaves Laredo is legal.

Now, I know that I'm a legal citizen of the United States, and I know that I'm not a drug dealer of any kind, but whenever I go through this checkpoint, I get so nervous!  Generally, they just ask if you're a U.S. citizen and send you on your merry way, but occasionally, they get a little more inquisitive.  That's when I get all flustered and say stupid things.  Like, today, for example.  Observe.

Border Patrol Agent (BP): Are you a U.S. citizen?
Me: Yes, sir!
BP: Are these your kids?
Me: Yep.
BP: Are you going to San Antonio?

Let me just break in here and tell you the back story.  I was not, in fact, going to San Antonio.  I was going to Encinal to do a mystery shop at a Subway in a Love's Truck Stop.  When I talked to Andrew about this conversation later, he was like, "Why didn't you just say you were going to Encinal?"  Why, indeed.  I'm an idiot.  That's why.

Me: No, I'm going to a gas station.
BP: A gas station?
Me: Well, I'm going to eat lunch there.

The thoughts that went through my head at this point went something like this, "Why did I say that?  Does that make me sound like some sort of prostitute?  Who leaves Laredo to go to lunch at a gas station?" Seriously, my brain is weird.

BP: What?
Me: I'm doing a mystery shop.
BP: You're doing a what?
Me: I'm a mystery shopper.
BP: Oh, so you're like a journalist or something?
Me: No, I go eat the food and then take a survey about it.
BP: Oh. *eyes me suspiciously* And this is your private vehicle?
Me: Yes, sir.
BP: Okay.  *checks something on his computer* You can go.

I left there feeling like a complete moron.  I was prepared for the U.S. citizen question and feeling confident, and then he throws another question at me, and I go into stupid mode.

Good news is he didn't feel the need to search my trunk like they did my husband one time.  I guess I can be thankful for that.  Perhaps as time goes on, and I've lived here long enough, that inspection station won't unnerve me so much, and I won't go into explanations about gas stations and mystery shopping.  Until then, maybe the Border Patrol agents will get some kick out of it.  Although, I seriously doubt it.