I was already mising Spanish when I touched down in San Francisco airport; but I wasn't missing it for long, because when I jumped on a shuttle bus into the city, both the driver and my fellow passenger were fluent Spanish speakers! The driver was an immigrant from El Salvador, and the other lady on the bus must have learnt it at some point. ¡Bienvenidos a Los Estados Unidos de America, amigo!
Unfortunately, although we were all cruising down Highway 101 speaking Spanish, the trip wasn't all fun and games. About 10 minutes into the drive, we got pulled over by a highway cop on a motorbike: I pulled you over fo' two reasons, sir: nummer one, you wasn't wearin' yo' seatbelt; and nummer two, you was doin' 75 [miles per hour].
And so, on my first day in the United States — and after a month of not being bothered at all by the police in Mexico — I witnessed my amigo from El Salvador getting his first traffic infringement, after living in this country for, as he said, dieci-siete años (17 years). This really is a crazy country.