Pain in the Ass #9 - well, actually L2-4 and the sacroiliac joint/tailbone...

Well, it's getting to be that time again.  Summer.  For me, summer used to be the same as any other time, except my son would go to day care while I went to work as I did every other day.  Last year Gabriel had the opportunity to spend time with my Aunt and Uncle in Pittsburgh, PA and my sister and her family in Canton, NY.  He had a blast.  This year, he's going to be really busy between, another trip to Canton, soccer camp, spending time with our babysitter (of almost 7 years now) and his best bud, Bola. 

However, after last year, I'm less eager to cross the border.  I had a run in with customs, and needless to say - I just don't wanna deal with those morons. Seeing as Gabriel wants to see his cousins in NY, I'm going to have to do it all over again.  *sigh*  For those of you who didn't hear about my adventure, I'll relive it - just for the Hell of it.  Maybe, whoever reads this (ha ha ha) will share some of their horror stories at the border, etc.

Here goes... My adventure at the border was something I'd been hoping for (please note sarcasm).  I was coming back from Buffalo as my aunt had Gabriel with them in Pittsburgh about a week, and she was nice enough to shave 3-4 hours off of my drive by meeting me in Buffalo.  When I was crossing back over into Canada, they asked me where I lived - so I told them. They then asked me where I was coming from, again, I answered them. They inquired as to why I was coming from Buffalo - so I told them I was meeting my aunt. They asked me why I was meeting her.  I replied with "I was picking up my son". They asked me why he was there and for how long, told them that too. Chick at the border says "I need you to pull over to one of the parking spots, and one of our agents will be with you shortly." So, I do what I'm told. Dude meets me, and tells me I have to go into the customs building. I go in. He then takes my passport and tells me I have to return to my vehicle, and the agents out there will assist me. I ask him what the problem is, and he tells me again to go out side. So, I go (and remember, I have my very tired, and semi grouchy kid with me through out this BS).

Dude and chick are waiting for me, and I take them to my car. They tell me to unlock it and to stand by the sidewalk. They searched the car; took the rockets that Gabriel had made with my uncle apart, put them back together. Grilled me some more, closed the doors after the search and then told me to go back in the building. Again, do what I'm told, but not before I asked them what the problem was. They of course didn't answer.  I went back in there where I'm told I have to go back to the US side, go thru customs and then ret'n back to Canada.  I asked for my passport back and he declines, instead gives me a form and then says this will suffice in lieu of my passport. Again I ask what's up... he tells me to just do what I'm told (as you know me, this is hard to do without a fight) but I did it. Didn't want to be arrested or something.

So, back I go around to the US customs, hand him the form and G's passport.  Dude looks at me like I'm stupid. Asks me why I don't have a passport, told him the story. He goes over to the dude in the shed beside him, comes back to me, hands me another form and makes a snide remark about Canada, and tells me to do what the other (original) dude says and go back to the Canadian side...so...I do that.  They look at me like I'm crazy on our side, and I just tell the same story.  He then tells me that I must have said or done something to make them worry.  I told him exactly what they asked me and what I said.  This dude is puzzled and says that he didn't understand, but that it was good I just went along with it. Yay me! So, I go back to the building to get my passport.  I shared my frustration (HUGE waste of time) and told the guy that I don't get what's going on or why this happened, but it would be nice to know what was wrong.  He just says to me, that it's up to them to decide what happens and if I don't like it, then I should just stay in my country, and leave it at that. I tell him that my country, at this point, is moronic, especially when it was Canadian customs that were running around with their heads up their collective butts, treating a 'fellow' Canadian citizen like this and wont even answer a simple question. I refrained from saying anything more, even though there was so much I wanted to say... as I didn't want to be arrested, and have my child put God know's where.

Moral of the story...bend over and just take it.  Hurts less when you're more relaxed, apparently.  God Bless Canada, Eh?

P.S. I'm now UBER excited to go back to the States... Road trip, anyone??