State Park Fiasco

Last night was interesting. I received a little reminder on how close the border really is. 

I have been testing out a new bikepacking setup and decided to visit the nearest state park. I entered the Besntson-Rio Grande Valley State Park after hours. As I rushed towards the showers I bypassed the check in fee, looking for a quick relief from the high humidity. Soon after I found the primitive campsites. Five seconds ticked off, and I was swarmed by mosquitos. Two minutes later, my bugnet was up. 

I scrambled into my shelter swatting my hands all around me. Several hours later, calling it quits, I rushed back to the showers for some light. The constant whine of tiny wings proved to be too much. Arranging my things in the light, I received an unwelcoming voice asking what I was doing. 

As I turned I thought, “well, this is going to be annoying.” The state trooper stood tall with a hand at the side, holding the door open. 

“Well, I am packing up my things. I’d heading out. I just left the campsites, this is a state park after all.” 

He asked for my ID, called me in to HQ, and questioned me a bit. We held over for a few, chatted about how far I’ve traveled, and what are my plans for this year. Joked about coffee, about how it shouldn’t be steeped with tap water. 

“Purist? Yeah I guess so”

“Good man, well you are free to go. Several Border agents will meet you our front. Protocol.”

I gave thanks, and rushed out, eager to meet up with more officials. 

We stood around for a decent 20 minutes as he called me in. Three vehicles pulled up and entered the park. I asked if it was a high traffic area, he agreed. He asked the usual questions; why are you out here, are you a US citizen? I tried to strike up some small talk, a few mumbles back and forth, but he wasn’t interested in speaking. 

Protocol. Simple and straight forward. I’ve got nothing to hide. Thank you for the work guys!


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