In 1993, I was sitting at the Phoenix airport waiting for my parents to pick me up and I observed a small family get off the plane escorted by a white person with a clipboard. They looked like they had just been plucked from a farm from the middle of Guatemala. The females all had braids down their backs and the men wore unusual straw hats. Each one of them had brand new athletic shoes on as if someone had just opened some boxes on the plane and hurriedly checked to see that they fit them.
I never could make sense of it.