July is a slow time to be a cab driver in Albuquerque. School is out. Locals are on vacations. No conventions or special occasions are going on. July 3rd was the last good day in the cab, and that was because everyone was stocking up for the next day. Then there's is the obvious reason: it's freaking hot! Anywhere from 92 to 99 degrees, and I start to melt around one o' clock on the afternoon.

This week felt especially slow. Probably because it had already been slow for two weeks, but it didn't seem like anything would change until August. On Wednesday, things were looking grim. It was already 11 a.m., and I still needed fifty bucks to make my lease & gas. I usually have that done by ten in the morning. My goal was to make my lease and go home with next to nothing by three in the afternoon.

Then I got the call from dispatch to pick up at the Burger King at Carlisle & I-40. Not usually a great place to get a good ride, but I needed every dollar I could get. No one was waiting when I got there. A common problem in my town. They don't know cab etiquette. If you call for a cab in a public area, it might be good to hang out in that area. If you call from Wal-Mart, it might big good to wave your hand or acknowledge me in some way when I drive right by you. 'I wasn't sure if you were here for me' is always a common response. I never understand that, but I shrug it off and take them wherever they want to go.

Eventually, a cashier from Burger King came out to my cab and asked how much it would cost to go to Ruidoso (a mountain town in Southeast New Mexico). I checked with dispatch, and it turned out to be $275. She then motioned to a guy to come out and spoke to him in Spanish, and he nodded okay. He had two suitcases and spoke little English. I confirmed that he understood how much it would cost, and he called up someone on his phone who spoke English just as well as he did. He also was able to say okay. So off we went.

At the beginning of the ride, he realized I spoke hardly any Spanish, and he spoke a little broken English. He said he was a Mexican national and after some confusion I realized he asked me if I has been to Mexico. I said Cuidad Juarez, and he said 'Ah, El Paso.' Those are the sister cities on both sides of the border. That's about as much conversation as we could have. I think he was disappointed in the lack of communication, but I still agreed to take him to Ruidoso.

More specifically, he was going to the Ruidoso Downs, the best horsetrack in New Mexico, and it was about a three-hour drive from Albuquerque. Yellow Cab drivers are licensed to take people anywhere in the state, so it was a legal ride on my end. Why he didn't take a greyhound bus was beyond me, but I think with stiffer security laws, Mexican nationals are finding other ways to travel.

In January, I drove a wetback to a dairy farm due east near the Texas border. I usually call them wetbacks, but I don't have anything against them. It just seems like when I call them 'wetbacks,' everyone knows who I'm talking about. If I say illegals or Mexican nationals or anything else P.C., it just sounds wrong. I still sometimes call Native Americans "Indians." Especially if they call themselves that first. They can call me Gringo or Whitey if they want. I don't care.

Back to my guy going to Ruidoso. I took I-25 south for 80 miles past Socorro to San Antonio (New Mexico), hopped on Highway 380 for 80 miles past the Trinity site where they blew up the first Atomic bomb & then past The Valley of Fire lava rocks area (pretty cool) & Carrizozo, quick turn on Highway 38 for 15 miles through Nogul and pop on Highway 48 for ten miles on to Ruidoso. As we entered the town, a State Police car got right in front of us, almost daring us to pass him. That wasn't going to happen with me having the passenger I had. We both chuckled when he finally turned off in to the police station. Ruidoso Downs is on the far eastern end of the mountain town.

We drove past the Casino to the stables. A good ol' boy manning the gate came out and said 'Can I hep yeh?' I said 'just taking this guy to work.' He gave us a strange look and then let us pass. It took my passenger about ten minutes to find his employer who was supposed to pay for the ride. This is always a tense moment. If the deal goes bad, I'm screwed out of much money, not to mention much gas & time & sanity. At the dairy farm in January, I waited for thirty minutes to collect. This time, it was much easier. His boss peeled off 14 twenties, and I gave him a five and was on my way.

On the three-hour cruise back to Albuquerque, I realized these rides might happen more and more. They are a little risky, but I have yet to be burned (knock on keyboard). This made a slow day in the cab much better. I even got back to the yard fifteen minutes before they would have started charging me overtime. Sweet.

What is the lesson? You can say all you want about immigration laws. You can build a wall as high as the sky. You can be racist or nationalist or whatever you want. If the wetbacks make it to Albuquerque and have money and destinations for the cab, they are going to get a ride wherever they need to go. Cause we all have to make a living in this country. That's the American Way.

Chris Jungle does not check his passengers' credentials.