On the overnight bus to Belize, I encounter a rather unfriendly immigration guard. At about 5:30am I found myself at the immigration booth of a female immigration officer in training. Her boss stood over her. He watched as she and another officer questioned people as they attempted to enter Belize.
Guard: Where are you going?
Me: Caye Caulker.
Guard: What is the address of your destination?
Me: I don't know. It's a hostel. I'll just find it when I get there.
Guard: You are entering a country and you don't know your destination?
Me: I apologize for my care free life style.
Guard: Do you know the name of the hostel?
Me: I think it's called Dirty Nasty.
Guard: There is no place here with that name.
She folds up my passport and pushes it across the counter back at me. She wants me to go back and find the address. I push my passport across the counter back at her.
Me: It's 5:30am. I don't have internet access here. I won't be able to get any address even if you make me get back in line. It's a hostel of some sorts called Dirty Nasty. That's all I know.
Guard: It's called Dirty McNasty.
Me: You are right then. Dirty McNasty.
I guess the only lesson I can walk away from this is that some women from Belize know what the Dirty McNasty is, but they will not admit they do.