Laredo

Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start.
When you read you begin with ABC
When you go to Laredo, you begin with B-O-B.

At least that's where our Laredo story begins, with Bob.

Let's introduce the principle players: me, Ryan and Jennifer. The secondary cast would be Bob. The tertiary subjects will be John, Ron and Charlie, two border patrol agents and an agent-in-training.

Ryan went to the Minutemen website to look for a contact. She found Shannon. Unfortunately, Shannon is in El Paso and doesn't figure into this adventure except that he gave us Bob.

When Ryan called Bob, it was with the idea that Shannon was giving her a fellow Minuteman to contact. Bob, however, denied being a Minuteman. His incredible wealth of information on the subject made us disbelieve him.

We rolled into Laredo just before 6 p.m. After checking into the Courtyard Marriott, we called Bob back. He agreed to meet us in the parking lot of our hotel at 7:30, and we'd go to dinner and he'd discuss our project with us.

*** It's perfectly logical of my lovely readers to be wondering why on earth we went to Laredo in this first place. In short, Jen, Ryan and I all had photo projects to do on Immigration, and elected to provide border art. I will also be writing a story for International Reporting on the outing. ***

We spent some time shooting as people were shutting down businesses and headed back across the border.

At the appointed hour, we drove back to our hotel and followed Bob (whom we had still not yet seen) around the corner to Taco Ravi. At Taco Ravi, Bob steps out of his vehicle-- a large black truck with a camper on the back with at least four very large antennae attached. The entire effect was rather like that of a stealth bomber which had sprouted a grill and made its home in Laredo.

Bob himself was a sight. In jeans and a button-up shirt, he sported a goatee and nearly two feet of hair, pulled back in a pony tail. I'd estimate his age somewhere around 35. It turns out Taco Ravi is housed in a building which used to be a delicatessen Bob's parents owned. Now, he is the landlord of the fabulous Taco Ravi.

The four of us settled around a square table and perused the menus. We then promptly asked for menus in English. After 15 years in Dallas, Bob's Spanish is a wee bit rusty. We elected to order fajitas for four. They brought out the largest pile of meat I have ever seen, along with onions and peppers, and bean soup. We subsequently referred to our dinner as "the meat mountain." They also brought us sausage, which may be the best idea for fajitas... ever.

During dinner, while Bob refused to speak about immigration and the Minutemen (an excellent choice given our surroundings, though Ryan did ask rather loudly, "So, are you one of the Minutemen?"), he told us about how he operates the blimp at the games of the local CHL team. Apparently, it's quite difficult, and he's rather proud to have gained the necessary skills. He practices.

It's in this meal that we discover Bob lives with his parents. He owns a house, but a Canadian is living rent-free in it. Bob only opposes Mexican immigrants, not Canadian ones.

After dinner, which Bob generously paid for, we followed him to a local sports bar where he and his buddies hang out. And we were there for three-and-a-half hours. With reporters notebooks. Taking notes. And trying to leave.

We waited the longest time for his friends to arrive. Apparently, they play bagpipes as part of their duties for the BP, and were helping the Marines celebrate the Corps' birthday. While we waited, Bob regaled us with his stories about being a ham radio operator. He spoke to the Space Station. He thought long and hard about what he would say. He elected to open with a joke: "How's the weather up there?" It's funny, right, since there's no weather in space, because there's no atmosphere.

Then he told us about how if your camera isn't fast enough, you can get blur in your pictures, and "you don't want blur when you're trying to get that cover shot." Good thing he told us, or we might have been in trouble. :)

His friends showed up around midnight, and we talked to them for about half an hour. As we were getting ready to leave, a guy walked across the patio where we were sitting, came over to Jen and said:

"Are any of you here with this lovely lady, because if not, I'd love to buy her a drink and spend some time with her. I've been getting up the courage all night to come talk to her and decided if I was going to make a fool of myself, now was the time, before she leaves and I never see her again."

Sadly, Hugo had to put up with Jen's gentle rejection, and we made it back to the hotel.

Quick shower and into bed. Suddenly, I hear Jen telling me to get up. It's 10 after six and time to get moving. We hit the streets of Laredo just after 7 a.m., with four-and-a-half refreshing hours of sleep under our belts. We wandered downtown a bit, shooting people coming across the board, and stumbled upon some Veterans Day celebration. I shot four rolls of film there, and managed to get shots of the city council and mayor of Laredo. Jen shot a bit of a parade starting up, and we hopped into the car to return to Austin for a Nazi rally.

Yes, Nazis. In Austin. And a healthy host of people who are apparently opposed to the facist right.

Fifteen Nazis showed and shouted a bit while holding signs. About 250 anti-Nazi protesters showed up and drowned them out. Actually, the anti-Nazis got there before the Nazis, which was amusing.

The state troopers busted out an impressive array of riot gear, which I'd never actually seen in person before

After a couple of hours of Nazi-shooting, Jen and I went to Kerbey Lane for dinner, where I had the most wonderful pumpkin pancakes. Then it was into bed just before 8 p.m.