Crossing the Border

So, I am frequently met with astonishment when I say I commute into another country to work. Actually, it's not that bad. For one thing, we are a ten minutes' drive, and about a fifteen minutes' bike ride, from the border. It's like commuting into New Mexico when you live in Trinidad. For another, I have a Nexus pass, which cost $50 and about 3 or 4 hours total, and is worth every minute and every penny. Basically, it allows me to go into the special Nexus line and bypass the normal line. After waiting an average of 2 1/2 hours a day to get into America when I was doing all my Washington licensure paperwork, I did not begrudge any effort or money I had put into the Nexus pass. Now, in general, I don't have to wait longer than your average stoplight to get into one country or the other. Occasionally, the guards ask more questions, or there is more traffic, and if I'm really unlucky (which I have been only once so far) I get picked for a random thorough search, including parking my car and reporting inside to the immigration office while they check my car. But those are the rare days. Usually, I just swipe my card, say hi to the border guard, tell him/her once again the reason I have Colorado license plates (9 times out of 10, they ask; I feel like just having a bumper sticker saying, "Yes, I have Colorado plates. I'm from Colorado. My husband is a student at UBC, and I work in north Whatcom County." As it is, I just say this all the time), and go on through.

It's been interesting, though, doing this every day, and getting to know the different guards and seeing the differences between the Canadians and the Americans. Canadians in general are a lot nicer, and ask a lot fewer questions. However, they tend to be much more suspicious of why I'm in Canada and several times have asked me to show my passport and visas. Americans don't care about this so much (and a Nexus card works as a passport on the American side of the border). But they tend to be a lot more police-like in asking questions. I've found there are pretty much four different questioning styles (Andrew is sure they are all part of psychological mind games, and he's probably right). Sometimes, you just get waved on through without any questions. Sometimes, the guards are really intimidating and seem to start with the assumption that you're doing something illegal and they're going to find out what it is by whatever means possible. Sometimes (and this is probably the creepiest one), they treat you very much the same way you would treat a child you saw stealing something; they ask in a super-casual tone, "So, where are you going today?" or "Why do you have Colorado license plates?" but with underlying accusation, as if they're really saying, "You can either tell me the truth now, or I can tell you the truth and put you in jail for longer." Or, sometimes, they just have a friendly conversation with you, as if they're really truly interested in what you're doing in America and why you have Colorado license plates. I've gone through the border so many times now that it's just as normal to me as, say, stopping at the guard house in Carol's neighborhood. The guards can be scary, and they ask a lot of questions, but really all you have to do is tell them the truth.

The best border guard moment, however, occurred a few weeks ago, when I was driving to work. It was a new guy I'd never seen before, and he stopped and asked me (the usual first question), "Where's home for you?"

"White Rock," I answered.

His eyes narrowed, and he said, "But that's in Canada."

He sounded very antagonistic, like he was trying to draw attention to the discrepancies between my citizenship and my "home." So, as calmly and non-confrontationally as I could, I responded, "Yes. My husband is a student at UBC, and I--"

He cut me off. "But there are Canadians there!"

It's impossible to describe his tone without saying it myself. But for those of you who know Rebecca, imagine her saying, "What? Walk Chloe? But she's a dog!" It was at this moment I realized he was not at all serious, and so I said, "Yes, there are," and smiled and moved on.

Not very professional, probably, but absolutely hilarious. Definitely one of my more random border moments. It definitely kept me laughing all day.