I want to tell you about a place that is both good and bad at the exact same time. It is

truly crummy and totally lovable. It is 100% a tourist trap, and honestly, it's a slightly

cancelable tourist trap. It is also kind of a delight. It's a place called South of the Border.

South of the border is a roadside attraction and well-known landmark on Interstate I-95 running up and down the East Coast.

You'll know you're getting near it like 300 miles before you are anywhere close because it has these ridiculous signs running for

hundreds of miles letting you know you're approaching it. And at some point, as you pass the

north to South Carolina border, a 200 foot tall sombrero pokes up over the horizon.

Recently, I met somebody for who south of the border is a lot more than a roadside attraction or just another tourist trap.

For him, it is where it all began.

His name is Rolando Pujol.

For me, my relationship with South of the Border, or as my parents call it, Pedro,

began in July of 1977. I was just four years old. We were taking a road trip from New York

area, where I grew up to Miami Beach, because if you're Cuban, you have to go down to Miami at least once a year to check in and maintain your bonafides as a Cuban American.

So we were on that trip. It was the inaugural road trip for me. I remember even as a four-year-old looking out

the window and beginning to see all those billboards for south of the border, those punning

billboards that would back then, it seemed like they started like in Delaware or, I mean,

they may have. Over 100 miles away at least. Oh, easy. Really far away.

I mean, I've even heard, I don't know whether this is true, even north as Philly. I don't know.

But certainly they began right away.

So slowly you would see these billboards, and they all had puns.

You know, Pedro's weather report, chilly today, hot tamale.

I've never seen sausage place, and it'd be a big sausage, a 3D sausage on the side of

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