Not spending New Years in a Mexican prison

I irritated Gary by asking him at least three times on our way to Mexico, "Are you sure you have the kids' birth certificates so we can come home?" So you can imagine the joyful atmosphere that filled the Buick when it became known that I had left my driver's license in my coat pocket 60 miles back at Grandma's house. Gary was more than ready to leave me to fend for myself in a Mexican prison. Luckily, a couple shots of tequila took the edge off and we were all able to have a nice time in Progreso until it came time to line up for the Mexican army and plead for mercy. They let us through, thank God. I'll probably dream about Midnight Express tonight but the fun we had in Mexico was TOTALLY worth it.