“You better believe I’m American!”

A passenger presents herself with her two daughters – one girl has a
passport, one girl has a school ID and birth certificate and the mother
has a driver’s license and Affidavit of Citizenship. I chat with the
teenage daughters and identify their accents (classic), I prod the girls
on their education plans and the mother looks pleased (she’s probably been
harping on the same subject). The mother ordered a birth certificate but
it didn’t arrive in time for the trip so she got an Affidavit. You can get
an Affidavit of Citizenship by going to a notary, paying $40 and swearing
that you are an American – they give you a page stating that you swore you
were an American. This doesn’t carry much weight for us, but the Mexicans
apparently don’t mind. So I tell her I’ll take an oral declaration, put
her under oath and get a claim to U.S. citizenship. We’re done and I’ve
returned all the documents. He daughters are teasing her as they leave and
she laughs over her shoulder:

I’m overweight. I’m diebetic. I’ve got debts up to my
yin-yang. You
believe I’m an American.

um… Right.