Christine Keeves

Time to fly to another place... Bags packed, hang overs gone, plane ticket in hand, I will be surfing by tomorrow morning. As Mark and his brother in-law are ready, we all climb into the car and head out to Buffalo where I'm going to fly out to Long Beach California to meet up with Karen. As usual I'm running late so we are in a rush to get there, but not with out a quick bite to eat. Bellies full we're in line at the border. I'm not sure how many people I know who have damned to United Sates of America's arrogant border, but I now know that I am one of them. The mentally challenged border officer that couldn't understand what I was saying let alone trying to explain that I was flying to California to see a friend, and hadn't confirmed a return flight because I would be driving out of the US of fucked up A. "Off to immigration" he says, probably more out of incompetence and lack of effort in his work then actually thinking I was going to work in their country. We drive to the building, and every move is done with caution. It's really interesting how paranoid you feel when under a marshal law. I mean between countries there are no rules, they have complete control over you, or so we all think that. Regardless we are here and waiting for our names to be called. I notice that everyone in the room has same sort of nervous twitch, a knee bouncing around, fingers running through hair, biting lips, constant blinking, we all have our own. I immediately became aware of my situation, and figure I would try a different approach considering you don't get pulled in to the kind of moment everyday. With my nervousness pushed deep into my belly, I become calm and arrogant, I wanted a level playing field here. I knew from the start things were not going to go my way, if your at that point you already know your fucked. So I state my case.
    Christine Keeves was the officer who I dealt with, and I must defend her here, because she did everything in her power to help me out. She was polite, timely, and to the point. I stated my facts, that I was flying to California and was going to make my way up to vancouver back home. Ok so I lied a little, but you only get one story to tell and I figured going back to a life I had in Vancouver was better then trying to explain I was becoming a global hobo and heading to Mexico. The story didn't convince her supervisor, as he arrogantly asked me my income, my savings, my credit, assets, and blah, blah, blah. He then insisted I had no proof that I was going back to Canada, and that I did not have enough money to travel. I could understand their view, but what confuses me is that by telling a vague truth I get refused entry into the country, but had I lied my ass off I probably wouldn't have had any problems. So with this I learned a lesson a already knew, tell them what they want to hear!
    So after 4 hours of interrogation, figure prints, mug shots, and pretty much feeling like a criminal for something I hadn't even done, or couldn't even make sense of yet, we left to drive back to Canada where they were much friendlier. Yeah no worries was pretty much all we heard driving through the border. I'm not sure I understand why policies differ from border to border, seems to me that every one of them has the same job to do, and I haven't heard about there being more breaches in Canadian security then in US security yet our border guards do their jobs with a smile on. I guess some just have different approaches, and apparently being an asshole just works better? I would love to see the proof of that. All of my american friends completely understood and expressed the same lament, that no one goes to visit them because of the same reasons; it's too much of a hassle and very degrading to enter the Unapproachable Security of A fucked up political nation. So I quote my friend Karen from California "fuck the US... the hell with it. " and with that start look into booking the first flight I can to Mexico.
    With a common theme happening in my experiences, everything happens for a reason in life. As we arrive disappointed and angry there is not much to talk about, so I make a call to inquire about the cheque I was supposed to receive for some work I did in Toronto. One phone call led to 3 more gigs, so I pack up once more and head off to Toronto to stay with Andra and Sean. They were amazing hosts, and are both great friends. Beer, pizza, and more good memories, conversation, and drunken haziness, I'm loving this. I manage to book a flight to Mexico city direct from Toronto, all I have to do is survive a weekend and pick up the rest of my things in Hamilton, and by Tuesday I'll be in full form and in my first foreign country. Mexico I'm on my way.... I mean for real, I need to get as far away from this snow as possible.
peace,
-ken