Chinese curiosity ill-rewarded by Secret Service in Dallas

March 24, 2009

Question: As a driver, who is the last person you want to mess with?

Answer: A police officer.

Question: As a foreigner, who is the last person from whom you want to provoke suspicion?

Answer: A national security agent.

Question: As a guest citizen, what is the stupidest way to greet the authorities of the host country?

Answer: Damage their stuff.

Well, these three questions and answers precisely describe what happened to me during spring break - I hit Bush's Secret Service agents' car.

My mom, who came from China to visit me, heard former President George W. Bush bought a home in Dallas for $2 million and asked me to take her there for a tour and some photos. We googled the address and followed the GPS to a very quiet and unremarkable neighborhood. I stopped at a stop sign right in the middle of the road. Then I started driving again, with no idea that I just triggered a disaster.

A man with a white earphone plugged in one ear and a long tail disappearing in his collar like most agents have in movies came out of a maroon Chevrolet parked across the road and stopped me.

I did not notice him, since he was well-covered by dark windows.

I explained to him that my mom was here from China and wanted to see Bush's house. He asked us to make a U-turn and leave.

We weren't even allowed to take a photo. Mom and I were disappointed.

While being watched by his sharp eyes, I didn't give myself enough room to make a U-turn.

As I was rounding out my U-turn, I underestimated the space I needed to get past his car.

The next second, at the speed of less than five miles per hour, the right front bumper of my car kissed the back bumper of the Chevrolet.

The doors of the Chevrolet swung open immediately, and I was startled to see two more men came out from the car and walk toward me.

My brain exploded and my heart nearly escaped while nobody did anything for a moment.

Then the younger man took a glance at the damage and came up to me with frustration written on his face. "Madam, it was just so hard to hit us. We were parking there."

"I'm so sorry! I'm just an Asian driver. I was eager to visit Bush!" I believe my brain was still on sabotage.

I bet they thought the accident was simply so impossible to just happen, if not deliberately designed, plus I was talking to my mom in Chinese the whole time (she doesn't speak English).

The men backed up a few steps and shouted "stay in the car!" when I wanted to get out to check the damage. I froze and even put my hands on wheel for good measure.

The older man already made a call, and a police showed up in less than two minutes, faster than I've seen in the U.S.

My brain started to function a bit, but not enough to find my insurance. The police threatened to tow my car if I couldn't provide it.

I asked for their permission to make a phone call to my friend, since it was actually his car I was driving. Their stares burned me as I dialed. I wondered what they would do if I said, "it's time. Action!"

Finally, insurance found, background checked, and the possibility of me being a terrorist eliminated, they allowed me to get out and check the damage. My crappy Honda Accord only had some scratches on the right side, while their shiny Chevrolet had a dent on left back end.

"Interesting. So what's wrong with American car?" I laughed. They didn't.

The younger man gave a shrug.

I tried to chat with him when I was told I had to wait for another police to make a report.

"Are you FBI?" I asked

"No, we are Secret Service."

"So CIA?"

"No, Secret Service."

"Like Jack Bauer?"

"No, Secret Service."

"Fine." I would have known the distinctions if I were a terrorist.

"Seriously, is Bush here?"

"Ma'am, I can't answer your questions."

"Do presidents still need to be protected after they leave office?"

"Yes, 10 years."

"Standing here for 10 years?!" I guess I really made their day in a boring job like this.

After about 20 minutes, they finally let me go.

"Are you sure you can make it this time?" The younger man laughed when I started the car. I was fine. I just needed a deep breath to find my feet first.

The cost for visiting or attempting to visit George W. Bush varies: It could be a war or time in prison for hurling shoes. In my case, I don't quite know yet, until I call my insurance company.