Trouble at the Canadian Border

While going through my computer today, I found a significant journal entry from last year. I wrote it on March 3, 2009 (3/3/09).

That day started as normal as any other. It was a sunny morning drive from Vancouver across the border to Blaine, Washington. I was picking up a shipment from the U.S. side of the border – a couple thousand dollars of martial arts gear. (It only cost me 1/3 of what it would’ve cost in shipping and taxes if I had it sent directly to Vancouver. And it only took a couple days instead of 2 weeks. Yeah, Canadian postal service sucks, and customs takes their sweet time.)

Anyway, the trip was just suppose to take a couple hours at most. I talked Lisa into coming as long as we stopped along the beach for brunch and coffee. So we began the 30 minute drive to the border.

We crossed the border easily and picked up my shipment. We unpacked everything so they didn’t look newly purchased. I brought some bags to put everything in so it just looked like some personal training gear. Who wants to pay so much extra in duty tax right? (Is that really naughty?)

What made Lisa nervous was the stack of training knives and the [somewhat large, very sharp, and not so legal] combat knife that my friend threw in the shipment. She thought it may jeopardize my legal status as a resident since I recently got my permanent residency (greencard in the U.S.), but I assured her it was fine.

And it was. We came back into the Canadian border and declared that we had some things, including the knife. The border officer said they’d have a look. Then bamm! An unexpected kicker… He asked us about the car.

My car was still registered in California under my sister’s name. Apparently, it’s not legal for a Canadian resident to drive a vehicle from the States. What?! We’ve been driving it for the last 6 months! If I still had my California driver’s license I could’ve entered as a visitor, but I gave that up in order to get my BC license just three days prior!

They didn’t care about the training weapons or knives. So we could come into Canada with all the merchandise, but weren’t allowed to bring in the car. What to do? We turned back and re-entered the States, again…. having to inform the U.S. side that we were not admitted cause of the car.

A couple hours passed and we were both starved and a bit flustered so we drove around in search of something to eat in the small town of Blaine, Washington, right by the border. We had Subway.

Considering what had just happened, I thought I was handling it fairly well. If that had happened a couple years or even a year before, it would’ve totally freaked out. Lisa helped me see things from a broader perspective and coached me through my initial emotional response. Ya, I still kinda freaked out.

Lisa insisted that something good would come out of this. Once I got through the frustration, I realized what a grand decision I made in marrying this wonderful woman.

So here were our options:

1. Drop off the car somewhere in Blaine, take a Greyhound bus back to Vancouver and deal with the car later
2. Take Lisa to the border and ask a friend to pick her up, and I drive the car back to LA, then fly back to Vancouver
3. Both of us drive to LA, leave the car there and fly back

I was stumped by the fact that we weren’t able to get the car back into Canada. Now we were suddenly without a car in Vancouver. But we had to tend to more urgent matters.

Based on our options, it seemed the best way to make a decision was by the process of elimination. It came down to either both of us going to LA or just me. Then with the help of a few coin tosses, we opted for option B. (Yes, sometimes we leave our fate to coin tosses.)

So we drove to the Canadian border… again…  and I dropped off Lisa at the border. She’s such a trooper. She had to carry as much as possible, so we loaded up the bags with everything we could – martial arts gear, personal belongings, backpacks, blankets, a laptop, bag of books and notepads, and her big purse.

She looked like a well dressed refugee with tons of bags strapped to each shoulder, back and arms. I hope she didn’t have to walk long. Fortunately, a good friend agreed to come and pick her up from the border.

Now here I was on my third trip across the U.S. border that afternoon. After dropping off Lisa, my only thoughts were that she make it across without any further hassle, (like why was she walking across with all that crap). This whole incident was a test situation for us, and Lisa passed with flying colors and handled it with the grace of a world class woman.

Okay, back at the U.S. border again! Reality check…. I have to drive to Los Angeles right now! Do I even have enough money for gas and food for the long drive? They don’t take Canadian debit cards in the States. What am I going to do once I get there? I didn’t pack anything! How do I get back?

Despite those minor/major questions. I had a huge epiphany on the drive down. Just 30 months ago I was unexpectedly forced to move to Canada cause Lisa couldn’t get a U.S. visa. Now I can’t get back into Canada cause of my U.S. car. This entire incident was very symbolic.

To be continued….

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