Serving The Queen.

 Queen Elizabeth II.

I’ve made it into Canada but not without an experience that is worthy of discussion, especially political.

“Where are you going in Canada?” says a young crewcut Canadian Customs officer from a booth right over the bridge from Detroit. “Montreal” I respond.  “What was your business in Detroit?” he asks looking at my U.S. Passport. I should have said that I was traipsing around casinos looking for evidence on why expanded casino gaming legislation is needed in New Hampshire this answer probably would have gotten my car searched and me questioned all that much faster.

He motions me to the right. “Go inside and talk to immigration.” he says. It was a cold morning indeed. So I drive over to the appointed area and are greeted by two other officers one of which had the posture and military bearing of a U.S. Marine. So I exit the vehicle and the two begin searching my car, not much to report here they were actually very respectful which I’m surprised at. So I go inside, it’s like a lobby of a bank except with police behind the counters and then I look up and there is a good sized portrait of Queen Elizabeth II.

It was then I realized that I’m in a foreign country.

“Country of nationality.” a direct and curt voice basically barks at me. “United States” I reply. “What were you doing in Detroit?” comes the question; he has the eyes of a German shepard. “I was transiting through enroute to Montreal.” "I already know this" officer shepard says. We would spend the next ten minutes at a Q & A session he would ask the questions and I would answer.

 To Be Continued...