A Tale of Two Crossings.

File this one under musings.

I remember family car trips to Canada, stretching way back to the 50s and 60s. My mother is Canadian, so these trips were a fairly regular occurrence with visits to the "Great White North" to see our many relatives there. Crossing the border was a relatively simple procedure in those days. The questions on entering Canada were generally, "Where were you born? Where are you going? How long will you be there?" followed by, "Have a nice trip." And then you were on your way. The stop at Canadian customs took all of two minutes, if that long. Returning to the USA was just about as easy. "Where were you born? How long were you in Canada? Anything to declare?" and the usual "Have a nice day." Again, two minutes, if that much.

Fast forward to a post 9/11 border crossing, same location, Port Huron, MI to Sarnia, ON.

Crossing into Canada: For the first time ever, as I came out of the toll booth after paying my toll on the US side, I was stopped by a US Customs & Immigration agent (a division of Homeland Security) and asked to show my identification, to say where I was going and for how long, and asked if the car I was driving was mine. Remember, this was US customs. Canadian customs isn't until the other side of the bridge. I got the feeling there may have been a special alert for something or someone trying to cross the border that day, but I knew better than to ask. Too much curiosity probably would have made the momentary stop an even longer one! Canadian customs was much as it has always been, except now they ask for identification, and if you're bringing any firearms into the country. (No NRA lobby to worry about there!) Still, a roughly two minute process.

Crossing back into the US: A bit of a line-up of cars waiting to go through customs. The agents didn't seem to be in any hurry though. As I was waiting my turn, I couldn't help but notice that in addition to the mandatory ID check, there were many more trunk lids being opened for interior inspections, mirrors being used for a quick look under the cars, and agents walking among the waiting cars, I assume, on the alert for any suspicious activity going on in advance of the customs inspection. By the time I got to the inspection booth, about a 20 minute wait, I was primed for a more than routine inspection. Long-haired, unemployed (retired), bearded guy traveling alone! Looks pretty suspicious to me! I was pleasantly surprised when all I had to endure was the now customary ID check, "Where were you born, how long were you in Canada, anything to declare?" Perhaps it's a sign that Homeland Security has figured out that it doesn't help when individuals are made to feel apprehensive and paranoid about a simple border crossing. Or maybe I was just lucky and drew an agent who was a kindred spirit, (we were about the same age) who remembered those border crossings from simpler times.