I spent most of my life living around the Detroit area.  Just a short drive across the bridge or tunnel from Windsor, Ontario in Canada.  I was talking to my Detroit-based brother the other day, and he had a new story about crossing the border.

It’s much more difficult now, of course.  Pre-911 it was pretty easy to scoot back and forth.  But, there are always stories.

I once worked with a Canadian in downtown Detroit.  She reveled in being able to avoid paying duty for things she purchased in the U.S.  Normally, she just hid her purchases in purses – or her underwear. 

But, the kicker was the time she came to work wearing not much more than a raincoat.  She’d purchased a dress in the U.S. and put it on once she got to work.

My favorite story is the one about a trip I took with a co-worker to a Canadian plant location.  The gentleman I was traveling with was one of a kind.  He had shifty eyes at the best of times.  He also was a chain smoker.

He was driving when we arrived at Canadian customs.  With his shifty eyes, and his habit of smoking like he just finished serving a long stretch at a non-smoking prison, and constantly brushing off the ashes he dumped all over himself, I was wishing I was at the wheel.

Sure enough, the Customs lady was almost immediately suspicious.  She asked all the usual questions, like where were you born, what is the purpose of your trip, how long will you be in Canada, and so forth.

After getting the answers from my Don-Knotts-lookalike companion, she started filling out some paperwork.  I knew we were dead meat.  Then came the piece de resistance.

She asked if we had any firearms.  My companion said, “FIREARMS! I don’t have any firearms!!” 

Then, he actually turned to me and asked, “Do YOU have any FIREARMS?!?!”

I about fell out of the car.  And so we were instructed to pull over to the customs building, where we were treated to a polite but thorough examination of our documents, briefcases and car.  Luckily, there were no body searches.

Needless to say. . .   I drove when we passed through Customs on the way home.