Arriving at the U.S. border crossing last Sunday afternoon after crepes, copious amounts of coffee, an accordion, and a strategic bathroom break at Granville Island, we quickly noticed the line of waiting cars was long and distinguished.*
After contemplating sprinting through the large marble arch separating the U.S. and Canadian sides of the border crossing station, or just doing cartwheels on the grass, we decided instead to blast the Glee soundtrack and sing to pass the time. I had my window down, because it finally decided to be gorgeous outside and the fresh air felt amazing, when over Lea Michele’s stellar pipes I heard “Can you turn that up? I like it!” from a woman occupying the passenger side of a large maroon Ford Expedition in the lane next to us. “Oh, sure!” Cue to thirty seconds later and Jen giggling as we noted the woman was totally singing along and happily bopping her head to the beat. (I may have been dancing in my seat the entire time.)
The rest of the waiting passed similarly, with more (bad) singing by yours truly, and more giggling, and a very agile group self-take that Cayly (Hans!) managed to snap from the backseat.
When we finally arrived at the guard booth, we were met by two steely-faced blond men wearing sunglasses, one of whom tapped on my windshield and asked me to remove my sunglasses (“You just got told!” Jen says from the passenger seat, laughing), while the other asked for our passports. Alas, it was time to turn down “Don’t Stop Believin’.”
“What were you doing in Canada?”
“Visiting friends.”
“How do you know your Canadian friends?”
Me, thinking: Pretty presumptuous, Mr. Border Patrolman, that we even have Canadian friends, though of course in this case we do, but is this some rule I wasn’t aware of? That to come to Vancouver you have to be invited by Canadian friends?
Realizing I haven’t actually answered the question, and Mr. Border Patrolman is still waiting for an answer.
“Through…blogging?” I more ask than tell. Jen and Cayly start laughing.
“What do you do for work in the U.S.?”
“Ummm…” I say, again wondering why this question is relevant and how specific does he want us to be, and how would he be able to verify that we work in the U.S. at all; is that why this line is so long?
Cayly decides to go first.
“I’m a student.”
“Is that why you have so much time to blog?” quips Mr. Border Patrolman, without hesitation.
“Oh, BURN!” I can’t help myself. It just comes out, with a slew of giggles from Jen and Cayly, and finally a smirk from Mr. Border Patrolman.
After Jen and I answer the question, he seems less than interested in our respective professions, and we are apparently not deemed enemies of the state, we go on our merry way.
Miles later we are still laughing, and Cayly is thinking of retorts she wishes she could have uttered to Mr. Border Patrolman’s snarky assumption that she spends all of her free time online, no doubt writing about what she ate for lunch.**
“I’ll blog your face” was definitely my favorite of her potential retorts, and is also my new favorite go-to phrase.
————–
*Twenty bonus points and a high-five to anyone who knows which movie (and movie quote) I’m referencing here.
**The best part of this assumption is how utterly wrong it would be, seeing as how Cayly spends less time online, and even less time blogging, than anyone I know. Anyway, Cayly would never blog about her lunch. She only blogs about really important global issues. Like Mariah Carey.
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