LAX, awaiting flight to GDL

Well, the Far East part is behind me. The strangers found me at TPE airport; they had a copy of my passport, so they recognized me. Step One completed, and I'm typing this admittedly rambling post from the Mexicana lobby at LAX.
The worst part of this trek is hauling around a loaded backpack with the World's Oldest Laptop (heavy), plus a box of integrated circuits. Add to that all the forms to complete, security checks, my too-hot sportcoat, and the hours folded up in an airport seat, and you can paint your own picture. But I dig it, anyway.
I must be pretty jet-lagged, because while I have been watching this box and the Mexican Customs paperwork like Dick Cheney watches torture videos, I had completely forgotten that I had placed the papers in my backpack at U.S. Immigration. The first Immigration guy freaked when I set the TPE box on the counter: "Sir! Remove the box from THE COUNTER!" I did, then offered to show him the Customs papework, even though it was destined for GDL. "Sir! Do NOT show me PAPERWORK!" The place was packed, I was broiling in that damn sportcoat, my hands were full, and I've got Ferris Bueller's teacher wearing a badge and melting down. I've also had very little sleep since Sunday.
I continued through the long line, then put my stuff down to regroup and give my aching shoulders a rest before continuing on to Mexicana Airlines. I double-checked to make sure I had the paperwork for the box. I couldn't find it anywhere, and thought, "Oh, $&*#!" I thought that I'd dropped them, or that the first Immigration guy had inadvertently taken them when he was checking my passport and other papers, while freaking out about the box on his counter.I mentioned it to one of the Immigration guys near that area's exit, and he turned around and screamed---yes, screamed---"Move! Tell it to the AIRLINE! You can NOT stand there! MOVE!!!"
Here's the spot where I could go on a diatribe about Customs and Immigration guys being "Barney Fifes", or "clerks with guns", or
"rubber-stampers", but I'm tired, so I won't. But that SOB deserved a boot up his a**. I understand security concerns. I can also spot an a-hole from across a crowded checkpoint line, jet-lagged or not.
A younger Immigration guy saw this,and motioned me over to his area. He then escorted me back through the maze in search of what I thought were missing documents. No luck. I thanked him and left the area again, as the SOB that did the screaming glared at him. At least one of 'em deserved his badge.
I went around the same corner I did the first time the SOB screamed at me, and it dawned on me to check the pouch near the World's Oldest Laptop. Yeah. They were there. I slid them there in haste after Ferris Bueller's teacher freaked.
In the past six months, Russian Customs smiled at me, Japanese Customs helped me unpack my backpack to see why their X-ray machine flagged it (tins of Russia caviar), Taiwanese Customs gave me directions and welcomed me to their country, while U.S. Customs and Immigration guys lost their tempers and melted down.
Welcome home!