Freeway Flyers

The call came in at 1645: Mom came home and found a note from her loving son saying he was taking a bus to Tijuana. Mom called the bondsman and the bondsmen called us. Fifteen minutes later The Boss and I were flying down the 405 from the West Side, and the lovely Miss M down the 5 from her pad up near Glendale. WAIT - ummm... did I say flying? Check that time again. Yeah, the thick of Los Angeles' rush hour. So The Boss and I were crawling down the 405 from the West Side, and the lovely Miss M down the 5 from her pad up near Glendale. Seems the bus had left Santa Ana about the same time we left L.A. and was scheduled to arrive at San Ysidro at 1900, then continue on to Tijuana and points south.

Finally cleared traffic in Orange County, took the 73 toll road and floored it. My little truck doesn't have a lot of cojones, but it got a good workout. Ninety em-pee-aitch all the way to San Ysidro (that's just on the nice side of the border), except for a few idiots doing things like 65 in the carpool lane.

The Boss and I arrived at the border at 1925 and he went to speak to the Border Patrol. They hadn't seen the guy, but we gave them a picture and they promised to look out for him and call us if they detained him.

While we were trying to get confirmation of the whereabouts of the bus, a San Diego cop pulled up behind where I'd parked in a bus zone, and was in the process of running my plate when I walked over to him. Kept my hands tucked in the top of my vest (read: well away from my weapon) out of courtesy, explained what we were doing, and he was starstruck! Asked tons of questions on everything from equipment to pay to employment. Apparently, like many other jobs it seems a lot cooler from outside.

Just before Miss M arrived, we got confirmation the bus had crossed the border at 1930. You do the math: we'd come 150 miles and missed the guy by less than 5 minutes.

But hey, I got a nice steak dinner out of it!