Fear and Winklevoss in Tijuana

Cameron drifted into the wrong lane, then came to the wrong border post — and just like that the Connecticut-plated BMW was under suspicion as a drug runner. We were asked to await a drive-through X-raying, then wedged between a body-rotted pickup truck and a minivan whose rear panel was being sniffed by a rangy German shepherd.

“These guys,” said Cameron, drawing our detainers into his messaging, “are making their decision based on not how we look. On the facts. And the fact is we could very well be struggling” — this slip was the only fracture in an immaculate façade of control and confidence, and he swallowed it like a spit of bile before correcting — “smuggling drugs here.”

“Scrutinizing our actions, not what we look like and the fact that we’re Americans,” Tyler added. “If they were waving us through despite that we made this mistake, that’s a problem. I’m upset about that.”

“I’m totally O.K. doing this,” said Cameron. “We deserve this.”

— Yes, why wouldn’t Awl pal Dana Vachon go on a roadtrip to Mexico with the Winklevoss brothers?