So, I am home safe and sound back in Canada. I had an amazing time in Seattle and it was very hard to say goodbye. At least I get to say hello to Seattle again in a couple of weeks.
Before going into the States, I was very worried. I was worried because my luck crossing the border has not been the greatest my last couple of trips. So to make sure there was no insert-foot-into-mouth disease occurrences again, I rehearsed what I would say to the border guards over and over again so that it became root. I had it down pat. When they would ask where I was going, the answer was simple, Seattle. When they would ask who are you visiting, again very simply, friends. When they would ask when was the last time you saw them, again simple 2 years ago, the last time I was down in Seattle. I had the address all ready this time and I was not going to make any stupid jokes about produce that would land me in customs when they asked if I had anything to declare, because I did not have anything to declare…
Within minutes, I was past the first hurdle. Without even a second glance at my passport or myself, the guard moved me through the queue and onto the baggage check. The guy scanning baggage told me to put my bags on the belt. I did so smiling. I walk to the other side to grab my bags, when I hear the words, “Hold it a second miss. We have to inspect your bags.” WTF? Really? What is in my baggage? I proceed to list off all the things that are in my bag. Lets see I have scissors that are pretty big since I was working on a cross-stitch on the ride down. He said that wasn’t an issue. I had my phone charger, some papers, shoes… What else could be in the bag that he is currently ripping apart?
He reached his hand in the bag and said, “This is it.” I think, this is what?!? My shoes are in that pocket? As he pulled out his hand with a very serious and scary tone he said, “It says here on your declaration papers you have nothing to declare. But you have an orange in your bag.” Seriously? An orange? In my bag?
Then it all came rushing back to me. I packed myself a lunch for the 10 hour trip and completely forgot there was an orange in my bag. Its just an orange, how bad could that be? It is not like I am carrying a gun, right? Right?
Shocked and terrified, I replied, “OMG. I completely forgot the orange was in there! Seriously. I packed myself a lunch that I meant to eat on the ferry and must have forgotten. I am very sorry. It will not happen again.” Phew, that wasn’t so bad, I thought to myself.
“Well miss.” Well miss what? It’s an orange and it was an honest mistake. “You need to declare all produce when crossing the border,” the border guard continued. Completely bewildered I responded, “I am extremely sorry. I honestly did forget it was in there. It will not happen again.” Thinking that would be the end of that, I tried to gather my bags, but he continued.
“People make “honest” mistakes and “forget” all time. However, you signed this declaration form and you stated on the form you did not have any fruits on you when you in fact had an orange.” I gulped and tried to apologize again, but he interupted, “We take these things very seriously. Failure to make a proper declaration statement, especially when fruits and vegetables are concerned is an automatic $300 fine.” My eyes went bug-eyed. You have to be fucking kidding me! I am going to get a $300 fine!?! Over a bloody orange?!? FFS! My heart sank. I wanted to yell, “But I am a model Canadian citizen!”
Writing on the back of my declaration form the guard continued on as my brain was trying to understand what the hell was going on, “I should really be fining you. This is not a light matter. However, I will not fine you this time. But what I will do is put this on your record that you lied on your declaration form and forgot to claim an orange. Listen to what I am saying here miss. This will be on your permanent record. You do not get to “forget” again. If you “forget” again, since this is now on your record, you will automatically get a $500 fine. Do you understand me? Welcome to the United States.” And with that, he stuck my orange on his desk and handing me back my bags.
Being the polite Canadian, I smiled and said, “Thank you.” What I really wanted to say was, “ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! IT WAS A BLOODY ORANGE! I NOW HAVE A RECORD WITH IMMIGRATION OVER A FUCKING ORANGE! It is a good thing I am a nice Canadian, because I have 6 inch scissors in my bag that would love to stab you right now, you fuck! Have a nice day you hoser!”
Remember children, oranges are dangerous m’kay?
Seriously, I cannot make this shit up. An orange!
