THE GREAT CANADIAN ESCAPE

So we’re in Montana on vacation and it’s going well and then hubby says ‘Hey, let’s go to Canada!” and since I’m working on having a new positive attitude, I stupidly reply “Sure! Let’s go!”

We get to the checkpoint and it’s in the middle of nowhere. It’s only a seasonal checkpoint so it’s not even open all the time. I get the envelope where I’ve stashed hubby’s passport and the birth certificates for the rest of us. I’m also working on being more organized so I’m quite proud of myself for having it all neatly arranged in an envelope.

Canadian Border Patrol Guy comes over to the car and wants to know what we’re doing and where we’re going.

Hubby “We’re going to the (whatever) Park to do some hiking.”
BP guy “How long are you staying?”
Hubby “A couple of hours.”
BP looks at documents then looks at us “Are these photocopies of the birth certificates?”
Me “Yes.”
BP “Where are the originals?”
Me “At home.”BP “Why didn’t you bring them?”
Me “Because I didn’t want to lose the originals.”
BP using a snarly voice “Then don’t come to Canada.”
Me saying nothing but thinking: (But didn’t you see how neatly organized they were?)
BP “This passport isn’t even valid.”
Hubby “What do you mean?”
BP still using very mean voice “You didn’t sign it.”
Right now I’m thinking let’s just turn around and go back. We don’t need to see Canada anyway.
BP hands invalid crap back to us and says to drive on across the border into Canada.
Hubby and I are both a little shaken and nervous at this point and he asks BP “Will we have any trouble getting back across?”
BP sounding arrogant “Not since I let you through. But if you went to another checkpoint, you might.”
Oooooookaaaaay.
I’m not feeling cheerful about any of this right now but we drive slowly through and into Canada. Which I used to think of as Big Beautiful Friendly Canada but not so much at this point.

Kid in the backseat, “Is this Canada? Are we in Canada yet? How much further to Canada?”

We drive for about 10 minutes and I say, “I don’t really feel good about this.”
Hubby, “Yeah, that guy was pretty rude.” (I’m paraphrasing, but this was the gist of what he said.)

Kid in backseat, “Are we in Canada yet?”

We drive another 5 minutes and I’m trying to enjoy the amazing scenery, but it’s not really working for me.
Me, “I still don’t feel very good about this.”
Hubby, “Me neither.”
Kid in the backseat, “La la la. Where are we now? What did that sign say? Are we in Canada? Is this Canada? It looks exactly like the place we just left? Why did we come here?”

We drive another 15 minutes or so and I’m close to hyperventilating. I don’t want to be stuck in Canada. I don’t want to have to learn Canadian! You have to put the ‘eh’ in everything you say and I don’t know how long I can keep that up, eh?

But I start practicing. “How much longer, eh? Do you think we should go back, eh?”

Hubby, who is a very laid back and easy going guy, actually sounds nervous. “Yeah, let’s go back.” If he’s worried then it is definitely time to worry.

We get to the entrance to some park and there’s a little booth where you have to pay to go in. Hubby stops the car and we look at the signs. Their written in English and French, but I’m freaking out about never getting out of Canada, so that I don’t know what the signs said.

Hubby, “Do you really want to go in there? Are do you want to go back?”

Me, “Ithinkweshouldgoback.I’veseenenoughofCanada.” My new positive outlook has deserted me. I envision myself and my family living deep in the Canadian forest as hermits, pursued by the Mounties and a herd of angry moose.

From the backseat, “Aren’t we going in?”

Hubby turns the car around and heads back the way we came.

I’m barely breathing. I just know we’ll never see the US again. How are we going to get home? It’ll be just like those movies where the people have to wait until dark and run through a river and climb a huge fence to get across. And since we’re in Canada we’ll probably have to fight a bear and ride a moose. Or something like that.

But I’m really trying to keep it together at this point and not completely freak out. Deep breaths. It’ll all be fine.

Backseat, “Why are we turning around? Aren’t we doing something? Why did we even come here?”

Me, “Shutup! We have to sneak back across the border!”

Backseat. Silent.

We get back to the checkpoint and get in line on the US lane.

Finally, we get up to the US Border Patrol guy.

BP guy, “Put it in park and turn it off!”

I’m not freaking out. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. Really, I’m not freaking out.

Hubby hands the BP all of our invalid ID crap and we wait. And wait. I’m sure the guy is placing us onto some sort of watch list on the internet.

He comes back and hands the stuff to Hubby.

BP, “How long were you in Canada?”

Hubby, “About 45 minutes.”

BP – eyebrows shoot up above mirrored sunglasses, “What did you do in Canada?”

Hubby, “We just went to the overlook and took some pictures.”

BP, “Okay. Do you have anything to declare? Do you have any meat?”

Hubby and I look at each other. We didn’t buy anything in Canada. But I’m not real cool in these sorts of situations. I have sort of an issue with guilt.

Me – blurting out. “We have some beef jerky.”

Hubby gives me ‘the please shut up look’ and turns back to the border patrol officer. “We bought it at Wal-Mart in Kalispell, MT.”

BP guy, “Beef is fine. Do you have any bison, venison, lamb?”

I’m wracking my brain. Do we have anything like that? Hubby looks at me again, probably expecting me to blurt something else out.

Hubby, “No. We don’t have anything else.”

BP, “Do you have any fruit?”

Hubby and I look at each other again.

Hubby, “No. We don’t have any fruit.”

BP, “Okay. Go on through.”

I hold my breath until the car is started and we drive back into the US. Yay!!!!!

We get about a half mile down the road.

Me, “OMG! We have raisins!”

Hubby just looks at me and keeps driving.

Okay, so I’m not good in pressure situations like that. You won’t ever see me robbing a Falafel stand or knocking over a 7-11. I may write about crimes but that’s as far as it goes. I’m no good at actually committing them.

So we did make it all the way back to Texas without any other mishaps. I don’t know if we’re on a watch list now with a big piece of beef jerky next to our pictures or not but it’ll be a very, very, (probably never) long time before we go back to Canada. Eh?