Day 12 Dec 30

"Gimme three steps gimme three steps mister and won't see me no more"
The border crossings attract an unsavory group of people. I was going to try minimizing my exposure to them by being early, they are aware of this ploy and are prepared to rise and greet you with all sorts of scams. Rise at day break at the border before 8AM maybe I can squeak through.
Terry and I had been on the cruise a few weeks before and I passed a Mayan Archaeological Site that we visited on a bus excursion from the ship. The same buses were there, probably different people.
About 30 kilometers away from the border I approached a government structure, the kind that bridges the divided highway and has a kiosk in the center like a toll booth. I had encountered them previously manned by police or army and the normal occurrence was to be waved through by a official wearing a orange vest carrying a orange flag. I think in the  USA the unofficial badge is a clip board.
This time two guys came out and flagged me over. No biggy they were wearing light blue uniform shirts that had insignia on the sleeves and carried the orange flag and vests. One asked for my passport and registration in spanglish and I produced it. He then said I needed a vehicle permit and my passport stamped to go into the next country, He would take me to the official to obtain this. He then promptly pocketed my passport and said he would get on the back of the moto and go with me to the Aduana. Bad scene, I know I'm a fucked monkey. My problem is how to shed this guy who impersonated a border official. I figured the structure was unmanned and he took advantage of this to fish for a sucker and I bit. We were headed for the border.
At the border he directed me, from the pillion seat, to enter a parking lot. He got off and I said "I want my passport "and he said "I'll be right back with the stamped document." and he ducked into a building about a 100 feet away. When he came out he informed me that Mexico had stamped me out on my passport and I was ready to get my vehicle permit for Guatemala. He had changed shirts while he was gone and had a plastic I.D. on a string in his pocket. As he approaches I snap a picture of him and stash my camera in a pocket, it made him uneasy and he said so I replied "I want my passport back"
I have been collecting my thoughts, and inventorying my surroundings. The parking lot is about 100 yard by 100yards gravel with many cars parked the plates indicate origin of Arizona, California, Texas and the like. I figure this is well lit and lots of witnesses but i am still intimidated and scared. My arrival has attracted an entourage of 5 of his com padres that are money exchangers or solicitor's of protection for my moto. I figure there is no doubt about there ability to kick my ass the unanswered is how many it will take. I position my self with bike at my back and have in his absents attached a nylon cord loop to my disc brake lock leaving the lock in the tank bag and the cord easily reached by me. I am of the opinion that nothing I have is worth a physical confrontation. Give it up if it means a fight, but its really hard to recognize when you cross the line from tourist to prey.
"I want my passport back, now". He is telling me that to obtain the papers for all the border crossings in Central America it will cost 350 dollars US.
It started to get a lot more tense now as I explained that he could go fuck himself and he needed to get my passport. While him and I are doing this silver back war gorilla, chest thumping, macho dance in the gravel I plucked the ID from his shirt pocket. YA HOO, let her buck, were havin fun now, it really got escalated and all 6 are screaming at me. the commotion attracted a lot of attention lots of people are looking. I'm certain that in a calm manner (not) I explained that it would be returned when I got my passport and registration or we could get a cop involved. During this minute of activity one of them touched my arm just slightly on the forearm, this evoked an immediate response, I put on my best Clint Eastwood, Charles Bronson look on and threatened him with visiting his ancestors, or maybe I resembled a caged rat,the message got through and nobody touched me again.
A very tense hour passed and he went away and came back with my passport my registration and a windscreen sticker for the moto. We passed the ID and my paper work to each other like a spy exchange at checkpoint Charlie. I had put a couple of twenty's in different pockets in case I had to contribute Mordida (bribes) without disclosing a bankroll. He is still demanding 350$ and I am still refusing as I get on the Moto. He drops his demand to 150$ and I increase my response to a double fuck. I started the bike and got 40$ out of a jacket pocket tossed handed it to him and dropped into gear clutch out and I'm headed for the gate. There's lots of Puta, Chingow
I have thought about it and reviewed the situation, ran it over in my mind a lot, I still cant say how dire my straits were. Just exactly how much trouble I was in, I don't know. I know I was scared and in many happenings perception is reality. These guys had an elaborate game plan that relied heavily on intimidation, and they intimidated me. I consider myself lucky and I've always said I'd rather be lucky than good. I can't deny this could be called dumb luck.
I was checking my rear view mirror a lot, in a couple of hours I was sure nobody was following. I couldn't make the frontier(border) today so I got a room in Escuintla, nothing notable except that I had a lot of choices for lodging and had not been threatened with sleeping in the dirt. Tomorrow will be different maybe I can make a couple of borders, YA RIGHT.