Saturday, June 11, 2005

Ever wonder what happens if you try to cross the US/Canada border with no ID?

Well, wonder no more!
The Mister and I have had the experience so that you don't have to!

When we ponied up in line at The Queenston-Lewiston Bridge border, with almost no gas in the car for good measure, The Mister reached for his wallet, only to find it AWOL.
"I can't believe this!" he exclaimed, as he proceeded to malign himself, remembering that it was tucked safely at home in his briefcase.
To which I responded, "It's no big deal! So we'll go back home. We don't NEED to go accross". He continued to drag himself through the mud, and I continued to tell him it was no big deal.
With no way to turn around, we just continued to the head of the que.
Mr. US Customsman asked for ID. I produced my Drivers License and The Mister proceeded to tell the "I left my wallet at home" story, and that we just wanted to turn back.
Mr. US Customsman asked each of us where we were born, and then asked for my Citizenship Card. I have a ready for framing, big ass document for a citizenship. Not a card, tucked way in a safe place at home.
With that, he put my Drivers License in one of those vacuum tubes, and stuck it in the hose where it was quickly sucked up, and gave us a pink slip directing us to the terminal with a cryptic, "With some luck, they'll let you back into Canada".

The Mister turned to me and said, "No big deal, eh. ('cause he's Canadian, eh) Bet you're pissed now!" as we were directed where to park.

When we got into the terminal with less than sufficient air conditioning due to the number of people filing in and out, many of which had suspect personal hygiene habits.
We quickly figured out that that there was no check in. We would have to wait to hear my name called.

What an interesting collection of people for a people watcher like myself to watch!
There was a young couple ahead of us, of which the girl half was dressed in a frilled jean skirt that barely covered her ass, a tight white top from which her breasts were desperately straining to escape, and a pair of 5 inch wooden hooker heels.
When they were called up, The Mister commented, "I hope for her sake, she brought her Strippers License with her..".
Shortly thereafter, one of the female Customs Officer came out snapping her rubber gloves on and telling them to follow her.
"THAT can't be good", says I.

Two hours later, my name was called, and we told our story to a friendly Customs Officer who after hearing asked, "How much of your and our time did you waste today?", and then he made a reference to the movie, "The Terminal" in which the main character is stuck in "no mans land" between countries with no proof of which country he belonged in.

Ha Ha

We had a short advice session from him on what we should carry next time, The Mister had his fingerprints and photo taken, and we were given complicated instructions on where to meet him once we retrieved our vehicle.
When we met him, he informed us that he would have to watch us drive over the bridge to the Canadian side, telling us "Hope you get through!" as he returned my Drivers License.
The Canadian Customs Officer (after hearing our story) dismissed us with a wave of her hand and a "see ya".


Thank goodness we weren't born in the Middle East is all I can say.