From the crest of the bridge I can see the Rio Grande. Physically, it’s a muddy concrete ditch with an extravagant name. It’s the army of uniformed agents on either side that indicate its real significance: it defines an imaginary line, separating two worlds, creating big risks and even bigger opportunities. Opportunities for treasure hunters and smugglers, for immigrants, for gringos seeking a little high-quality debauchery.
Read the whole thing here. Guy catches the Hunter-Thompson-style craziness mode.