By Dan
Does it matter which day it was, really? I’m not sure I’ve experienced that mix of laughter and horror since then, well at least not for that reason. You know that episode on Cops where the guy says “I didn’t know that was in my car, someone must have put it there”? Well that happened to us, or really just to me. Mark knew it was there and laughed when they found it. I didn’t laugh then – but it makes me laugh a lot now.
We were on a road trip to see some land Mark’s dad owned, near Mont Tremblant in Canada. I think that’s what inspired the trip – but the trip itself became more about seeing friends, new cities, new adventures. We’d already stopped near Detroit to see my friend Kelly. And after that we’d stopped in Saginaw to hang out with Berggren. You remember, Mark’s roommate from college. After that, some fun in Sault Ste. Marie and a belly full of pasties and ice cream – we headed for the border.
Border security is a big issue today, but a few years ago it was not really a topic. We didn’t think twice about crossing the border into Canada. I don’t even think we brought our passports. Besides, shouldn’t the border just be a painted stripe on the ground and a Welcome to Canada sign? Are people really trying to break in? Well let me tell ya’, Canada takes border security a lot more seriously than we ever imagined. Do they have a problem with Americans sneaking in and doing all the construction jobs Canadians just don’t want to do? Picking all the lingonberries, chopping down Christmas trees and herding elk for pennies on the Loonie - only to mail those Canadian Loonies back to their relatives in the politically divided U.S.A?
I don’t know really, and didn’t think to ask.
When we arrived at the border, we were actually asked to park our car and get out so it could be searched. (I was thinking “This is Canada right?” ) We did so and after the basic duration and reason for stay questions had been asked, we waited near the car while the border guard proceeded to search the car. I believe Mark and I were on opposite sides of the hood when she found it; I near the front passenger seat and Mark just outside the driver door. She pulled it out of the trunk with a somewhat quizzical and somehow menacing look and asked “what do you plan to do with this, while in Canada?”
I had not seen it before and looked at Mark with horror and wonder. Where did that come from? Are we going to be barred from entering Canada, the most laid back nation on earth? Will we have to stay in some sort of jail before they decide our fate? What was Mark thinking we would do with it once we crossed the border? And why was he smiling still when we’re moments away from our first official deportation?
Mark was both laughing and apologetic at the same time. It was clear that he had forgotten its existence in the car, and at the same time felt the ramifications from its discovery. I think he said “sorry, you can have it. I forgot it was there.” Or maybe “sorry, I got that from a friend of mine who is now in prison” It’s kind of a blur – that part. I mean, I was looking at a Canadian border guard wielding some sort of home-made, hand-pounded steel machete, which looked as illegal as a prison shank and sharp as any Russian sickel.
Mark hadn’t ever mentioned this murderous device to me before so I was as curious and fearful as she was. It ended up being something a friend had made and given to Mark, and despite our pleas that she take it and throw it away, she calmly put it back in the trunk and said “make sure this stays in your trunk while you’re in Canada, eh?” And we were free. No incarceration, no lashings, no barring.
We decided we’d get rid of it before heading back across the border into the great U.S. of A. - but in the ensuing excitement of the trip (The Sudbury Garlic festival, black bear sightings, the kiss-and-run hostel, Toronto and Quebec City), we forgot. We did remember, however, once we saw the border crossing. I remember the memory came flooding back. Seriously, if Canada was almost a strip search, going back into the U.S. is going to be strip and cavity search – and we’re hiding a 15th century decapitation device in our trunk. Nevertheless, we made no effort to thwart or slow down our progress toward the U.S. Border Patrol and hoped for the best.
We pulled up to the border crossing station, slowed down – and they waved us through. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. – Hakuna Matata
Dan
(Politicians take note – maybe the absence of a wall is not really the problem.) 
