A Class for Strangers In a Strange Land

By Richard Woodbury/Eagle

Felipe, 23, a construction worker, says he didn't know any better when he and a buddy cruised down the streets of Edwards, Colo., in their Chevy Blazer last month, swilling Tecate beer and blasting disco music through the late-night stillness. "Hey, we do that all the time back home in Mexico," Felipe says, shrugging. But the cops in Edwards nailed him for driving under the influence and disturbing the peace. Now, facing an additional felony charge of giving a false name, "Juan Romero," Felipe has agreed to an unusual penance. In exchange for a softer sentence, he is attending a three-hour crash course on the legal and cultural do's and don'ts of life in the U.S.

The laborer and two dozen other guys in work shirts and battered jeans are gathered in the basement of Eagle County's government building, hard by the vacation resorts of Vail, Beaver Creek and Copper Mountain. They're listening to instructor Gustavo Heredia explain bail bonds, warrants and plea bargains. Many in the crowd are recent arrivals from Mexico. None can speak English. And all are in trouble for such offenses as drunk driving, driving without insurance, spousal abuse and fighting. Four-fifths of them are in the U.S. illegally, but deportation is no big worry in the Colorado resort country, where unemployment has been running under 2%. Here, Latinos hold about half of the low-wage jobs--dishwashers, chambermaids and gardeners--that are essential to the tourist economy but that few U.S. citizens will take.

"Can anyone tell me the phone number for 911 in Mexico?" Heredia asks. The question draws chuckles. "We don't have a 911 there," a beefy youth in a Raiders cap shoots back. "In the U.S.," Heredia says, "you don't have to break up a fight. The police will do it for you." He explains that "the system here is like a card game. You've got to know the rules to win." Javier, 26, a laborer at Copper Mountain Resort, learned the hard way. He paid a $450 fine--about a week's wages--after he was pulled over for having a broken windshield. Then the Chihuahua native was charged with driving while impaired, although he insists he had only one beer.

For Omar Amaya, 22, a house painter in Vail, the tougher law enforcement is a modest price to pay for living where he can make $104 a day, compared to $5 a day back in Mexico. He paid a $700 fine after he ignored an earlier warrant and was picked up again for driving without a license or insurance. "Back home," he says, "I would have settled with the police on the street for $10." Says Heredia, a onetime Aspen dishwasher who now works as a court interpreter: "It's a shock to come from the worst poverty into the richest country with no guidance." His two-year-old How to Live in America program is a formal part of the courts' sentencing process in nine Colorado counties. "I'm not seeing repeaters anymore," says Judge Terri Diem of Eagle County, where DUI cases have dropped 40% among Hispanics since 1998.

When Heredia's class moves to customs and etiquette, interest heightens. "Culture is so different here," Heredia explains, ticking off taboos. "Keep the radios down after 10 p.m. Watch your language in the park on Sundays. Don't follow a girl down the block--she might have you arrested for stalking." Says Enrique Arvizu, 24, a Vail laundry worker: "All these things are new to me."

In Eagle County, where Latinos make up 30% of the population, it's easy for new immigrants to remain outside the mainstream culture. "Don't stay isolated," the instructor urges. "Learn English. Make friends and go to people's homes." Kathleen Forinash, human-services director for the county, observes that the newcomers "want to understand the community, but they feel vulnerable with none of the protections we have." Many left their families back in Mexico, "and the loneliness adds to their stress."

"Don't forget," Heredia pleads as the men prepare to head off into the night, "you came to this country to succeed. It is easy not to have problems with the law." Felipe was planning to run out for a six-pack after class but was sufficiently sobered by what he heard to change his mind.