Crossing The Border

I found this old e-mail from back in July of 2000 (remember those good ol' days?). It is an e-mail I had sent around as a recap of a little trip to Canada where my friend and I had a run-in at the border. Those Canadians ... it's so love/hate with them.
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07/11/2000 04:03 PM
So, as some of you know, this past weekend I went on a little journey to visit our neighbors to the north -- Canada. Yes Canada!! The land where beer flows like water, Glass Tiger rocks the house and the use of kilometers and Celsius for measuring things is "normal".

Anyway, I went on this little journey with two friends from college, Todd and Tom (and a bunch of Tom's family/friends). This little story revolves around myself and Todd trying to get into the world's second largest country.

I'll try to make a long story somewhat short ... Todd and I have a red Chevy S-10 pickup truck freshly rented from Enterprise the day before. We pull up to the border crossing booth to get questioned. I am ready with my answers and various Canadian trivia I have learned over the years (Canadian Bacon is actually an American invention, ice hockey and lacrosse are the national sports, Canada has over 2 million lakes, etc.) We get the traditional questions (my trivia is once again proven to be useless) and seem safe enough. Only in the country for two days, no booze, no firearms, no anything. They guy in the booth hands me a yellow slip of paper and says, "Just take this and go in door number one."

So, I guess they are going to bust balls a bit. We pull into a parking spot, go up to the door and a women meets us, takes our yellow slip and heads for the truck. We have to sit in front of the truck on the curb as she searches the truck.

Todd and I conferenced and both felt pretty secure that we didn't have anything naughty with us, so we relaxed and waited to be sent on our way.

Todd then notices that the searching woman is on the radio talking to someone and she has a little baggy in her hand. "Shit!! What is that?"

I, knowing that Canadians can be sneaky began preparing a defense of them planting something on us.

A car pulls up, guy gets out looks at the baggy, and calls over to us, "Who owns the gray bag?" (Fuck) "That's mine," I respond. He calls me over and gives me the age old question, "What is this?" and shows me the bag.

In it is a golf ball size, blue crystal formation. Drugs? No. It was some rock candy from home which I had forgotten about in the half of a day I was in the car. If you don't know what rock candy is, it is just sugar, water and I guess food coloring boiled into a candy usually served on a stick or string. Apparently the guard wasn't believing my all too simple story.

The guy had me sit back down. He gets out the K9 drug sniffer and sets him to work. Nothing for the dog to find.

We then had to go inside. There we had to strip nude and grab our ankles. Actually I am lying. No strip searching much to my chagrin. We then had to sit and wait while they tested the candy and ran our licenses for criminal arrests and the like.

Finally we were free to go. About an hour and 45 minutes of sitting around while Canada hassled two upstanding young men like ourselves. Can you believe it!?! Soon we were on the road, free of our bonds and rockin' out to some good old Pantera, blazin' across the Canadian countryside. Luckily the rest of our trip rocked or Canada would have been on this kid's shit list for a long time to come. Instead of the shit list, the three Canadians I know have to listen to me bitch out their homeland via e-mail. Sorry, but at least now I feel some closure.

Anyway, I know this was a bit long, but I figured I would share. You three from Canada should give your government a talking to or you may find yourself with miles and Fahrenheit conversions to try to contend with before long.

Yours Truly,
Bill "Hugs are better than drugs (especially at the border)" R******