When I first moved back to North Carolina last January, my wife and I started frequenting the same pizza place pretty regularly. It's attached to an Italian Restaurant, no delivery or anything but a good place to get a slice. Anyway, as time went by I got to know the fella behind the counter, Enrique or Ricky. Now, I'm not saying that my neighborhood is snotty, but it's not the kind of place where everyone is going to chit-chat with the illegal working behind the counter. Me, I'm blue-collar, reformed white trash through and through - so Ricky and I get along just fine.
I was talking to him tonight and it got me thinking. See, Ricky has a wife and three kids in Mexico that he sends money to every month. He hasn't seen his kids in almost three years, because he's illegal, and they live outside the US. Here's the interesting part, Ricky is one of the many illegal aliens that uses an Individual Tax Identification Numbers to pay taxes.