I took Lamb and her mom to the Windsor train station recently, and on the way back I dreaded the conversation at Customs. I've had my car and bags searched already and feared I was one wrong word away from the dreaded cavity search.
So I reach the box and put my car in park. United States citizenship. Ann Arbor, Michigan. And then the question I dreaded: how long were you in Canada?
"Oh," I said, looking over at my clock, "about an hour and twenty minutes."
I hate saying that. It just screams "drug mule" or something, based on past scrutiny.
And he asks why I was in Canada. Again, the truth has been painful as I've discussed here when I say I took my ex-wife and daughter to the train station. This time, I finessed it. "I just took my daugher--and her mom--to the train station." He asks where they are going. He comments that I'm not going and that it would probably save me some money.
Hey, levity. Where'd that come from? This isn't racing toward the strip-search station at all! My worries about how to answer the request to pop my trunk dissipated. (My trunk button is broken, but I realized that starting out "I can't open my trunk ..." would result in a SWAT team with dogs storming my vehicle before I could spit out "... so I'll have to turn off my car and give you the key.")
And then it happened. The sudden dawning of what it takes to come back from Canada with fewer problems than if I got a Nexus card.
The officer says to me, "Other than Tim Horton's (nodding to the box of six donuts sitting in my passenger seat), are you bringing anything else back?"
I allow myself to smile and say, "No, that's it."
And he bade me farewell and good health and sent me on my way.
Thank you, Tim Horton's!
I am so buying donuts from Tim's every time I go to Canada. It's a Nexus Box and less than $5.00 (Canadian).
