We recently visited the US/Canadian border on our way to Vancouver. This is what transpired:
Canadian Border Services Officer (hereafter known as Officer Sir): “Good evening. Identification please.
Pause.
Officer Sir: “When was your last visit to Canada?”
Me: “Oh, well, that would be something like twenty-five or so years back.”
Officer Sir: <Quizzical look>
Mary: “Oh, no dear. Remember that cruise we took up the West Coast? It stopped in Vancouver, and we flew back from there!”
Me: “Oh, yes, yes we did. That was maybe ten years ago.”
Oficer Sir: <Arched eyebrows now>
Mary: <Ever helpful> “Wait – there was also the trip to Montreal. That was three years ago!”
Me: “Ah, yes.” <Sinking feeling – do Canadians have their own version of Guantanamo?> “You see it’s not as though we think Canada is so boring that we can’t remember visiting it. There was, in my case especially, an entire period of my youth that was filled with experimentation with various exotic substances, that may have resulted in more than a few long-term memory problems. It really has absolutely nothing to do with Canada, which we think is a splendid country. See, we’re here visiting and willing to spend our now thoroughly debased coinage in your fair realm. And we’re really looking forward to a good doughnut or twelve.”
Mary: <Hissing> “Stop now, or I’m going to have to hire a whole bunch of lawyers. And that’s for me. You’re going to rot in some Canadian penal facility till you’re a wrinkled husk of a man!” To Officer Sir: Though I’m sure it would be a perfectly nice penal institution as penal institutions go. It being Canada and all”
Officer Sir: <With a glare that kind of belies the whole ‘Canadians are a warm and welcoming people meme’. Followed by a silent wave through, and entry into deepest, darkest Canada.>
Me: <As we are pulling away, but not till we’re safely out of earshot.> “Wow, not even a ‘Welcome to Canada!’ “
Mary: <Glare>