So, it was time to pick up a few groceries and miscellaneous ‘things.’ I climbed into the cab of my RV, typed Walmart into my GPS and off I went. It was easy relying on the GPS that took me half-way across the US. It faithfully landed me exactly at the appointed destination each and every time without even one glitch. I sat back, enjoyed the scenery and just focused the traffic and the pretty Washington scenery.
Following her (my GPSs) directions, I veered off onto a ramp and then another ramp. I was just beginning to feel a little uneasy about my surroundings when I suddenly found myself in a no-turn-around lane, quickly approaching a booth directly under a very large sign that announced I was about to enter Canada.
Well, that was just great!
My RV was the only vehicle in the 4 or 5 lanes. I slowly rolled up to the booth and told the man there that ‘This was all a big mistake.” I nervously told him I was just trying to run to Walmart and my GPS... And he just cut me off and ordered me to show him my papers, my drivers license and my tag number.
Flustered but trying to be friendly, I attempted to explain, while I dug my drivers license out of my wallet, that I had no intention of entering Canada, that it was all a mistake because of my GPS. I told him I didn’t even have a passport. He repeated his request sharply (surely he could see I was trying to get the license out). My anxiety and fluster was just tipping into irritation at his ‘not very helpful or friendly’ attitude.
“License, tag number, passport,” he ordered again. With just a little bit of huff, I handed him my license and told him my tag number (thank God I remembered it). Then he stared at me like I was hiding something, and asked me if I was carrying a weapon on my person or in my vehicle. I answered him truthfully that I wasn’t on either count. He stated, “You’re from Oklahoma and you DON’T have a weapon of any kind on your person or in your vehicle” while staring accusingly at me. A statement, not a question. Apparently Oklahomans have a reputation. Okay, I was nervous and a little scared but now he was beginning to piss me off a little, too.
I told him again, “No.” To fill the silence while he continued to stare in disbelief, I began telling him again that I did’t have a passport with me because I had no intention of coming into Canada, that I was just trying to go to Walmarts, that I’d be happy to turn around if he’d show me where to do that. He held his hand up and told me that I didn’t need a passport to enter Canada (news to me) and that there was a Walmart just up the road on the Canadian side and offered directions.
Well, that was a turnaround and seemed a little like an invitation, of a sort. So told him I’d be delighted to visit his Walmart. With a big smile, drove onward to my first visit to our Canadian neighbors. It’s a very pretty country, btw.
I did my shopping. Loaded my goods and myself back into Gypsy and set off to return to my RV park in Blaine, WA before the sun set.
In fifteen minutes I was approaching the border. I cued up into one of the 4 lanes this time filled with waiting vehicles, and waited there with them for approximately 45 min. When it was my turn to roll up and talk to the man in the cubicle, well if I’d thought entering Canada was scary, let me tell you, it was nothing to what trying to re-enter the US was.
Holding out his hand, barely looking at me, the border guard demanded, “Papers.” Since I had no papers, (this felt familiar) I gave him my drivers license. He took it, looked at it, then at me and repeated that he wanted my passport.
Well... I began to tell him the story I’d told the other guard about how I’d never intended to come into Canada, it was all a big mistake, I was just trying to go to Walmarts and it was all because of following my GPS. He shot me a look at which time I told him the other gate guy told me I didn’t have to have a passport.
Now, I had his full attention. He turned to fully face me and seemed to be examining my face or my expression. Really? I began to really get self-conscious. He then proceeded to ask me ALOT of questions in fast succession: when did I leave the US, how long had I been in Canada, was I an American citizen, did I have a weapon on my person or in my vehicle, what state was I from, where was I born... Just sayin’, he wasn’t very friendly.
So, I started trying to answer all of his questions one at a time, trying to be very patient and calm (one of us should be). There was a period where, after all the questions were answered to the best of my ability, there was just silence as he just stared at me. I actually began to feel guilty. I felt like the criminal on TV that breaks in the long silence and blurts out where the body is buried, but since I didn’t have a crime to confess I just started pouring out my story...again. I told him about how I wanted to go to Walmart this morning. How I’d punched Walmart into my GPS, my very dependable GPS, and it took me to a line that I couldn’t get out of entering Canada... Well, you already know this story so I won’t repeat it.
He listened for a while, then held up his hand and said ‘Stop’. So I did. He started typing into his computer and called someone on the phone.
While this was going on, I was picturing myself living in my RV in a Canadian park or maybe a beach, applying to work at the Walmart where I just bought my groceries and wondering how long it would take to learn basic French... Can you be an American refugee in Canada? Do they give food stamps?
He turned back to me and very seriously and deliberately asked me the name of the hospital where I was born. I knew this was a crucial moment just by his demeanor. I had to get this one right. And, thank God I didn’t have a senior moment (It could’ve happened!) I told him and he waved me through.
I’m not sure I’ve ever been so glad to be on a little spot of ground in my life as I was as I rolled onto to my tiny lot in the RV Park in Blaine. I turned off the engine. My hands were shaking and I didn’t even remember how I got there. I lay down on my small couch with cool washrag for my head, a medicinal glass of wine for my nerves and decided I’m getting a passport as soon as possible.
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