Update: Returning as a Mexican in Kansas City

So I've been back in Kansas City for less than 24 hours. On my first voyage away from the parents' house, I drove to the bank to get money for my new driver's license, and then to the DMV.

THE BANK

Waiting on the sidewalk for the ATM, a man in his late 50s strolled by after leaving the bank and looked at me. Preparing for the typical midwestern greeting or smile, I turned my head. He said, "Hola. Buenos dias." I have no idea why he was speaking Spanish to me, and I responded with a cordial, but slightly stilted, "Hi." He stopped next to me and asked, "So you speak English, too?" The confusion was turning dreamlike. With the same air of polite uneasiness, I replied with a simple "Yes". He looked at my chest. Then, it hit me.

I was wearing a T-shirt from the "End the Restavèk System" campaign in Haiti. It is written in Haitian Creole. I, due to time in the Dominican Republic, have grown darker in complexion. Thus, he thought I was Mexican.

By the end of the conversation, he had blessed me for working in Haiti where "all those people died," told me of his opportunity for buying a condominium in the Dominican Republic, and told me he was going to Costa Rica, soon. Having gotten my cash, sitting in my car again, with the well-intentioned local far away, I laughed out loud.

THE DMV

(still in progress...more when I leave here)