Canada Check-in

We arrived at the Van Isle Marina Customs Dock around 11:30 am. The marina staff was kind enough to help us dock and then explained that we needed to call Customs. I went below anxious to finish the process.  Kathy told me to sit down as she dialed the number on her cellphone and put it on speaker.  

An automated system answered after a few rings and we chose the appropriate option on our phone– we were an arriving vessel.  The system informed us that all agents were busy, and they appreciated us waiting on the line.  I closed my eyes and tried to mentally prepare for the interrogation.  My father had told me horror stories from his many viewings of Border Security: Canada’s Front Line.  “Remember,” I said to Kathy, “I’ll do all the talking.”

All of a sudden, Kathy jumped out of her seat.  She was desperately searching for something.  

Surprised and concerned, I asked, “What’s going on?” 

“I need to get our passports!”

Kathy was digging through one of our many backpacks.  I had meticulously planned every detail of the trip.  I had looked at the weather, plotted the routes, checked the currents and tides, calulated alternative options. Despite my frustrations I attempted to be helpful.  “How can you not know where the passports are?”

“Shut up!  I’m trying to concentrate!”

I looked on in horror as she pulled out another backpack. “I put it in a special spot so I wouldn’t lose them,” she said.  “But I can’t remember where now.”

The phone system blurted out that all agents were still busy.  I thought about making a run for the border.  It was only 3 or 4 miles away–I couldn’t remember.  We might be able to make it.

Kathy pulled out a bag from a backpack, unzipped it, and tossed the passports onto the table.  I relaxed and could feel my pounding heart being to soften.

The phone stopped playing music, and we could hear it ring.  Kathy and I looked at each other.  It was “Go” time.  

The agent asked for our registration number for our vessel and I read the numbers slowly.

“Is this Sean?” she asked.

Kathy mouthed silently to me, “How does she know that?”  

Not knowing, I shrugged and answered, “Correct.”  

I controlled my breathing and kept my answers brief.  I’d seen enough TV shows to know how to beat them.  They wouldn’t be able to break me.  I was too smart.

Then the interrogation began.  “Why are you visiting Canada?”

I had anticipated this question but never formulated an answer in my mind.  I stammered, “To see stuff!”  

“How long do you plan to be here?”

“Uh…”  I tried to do some mental math.  “20 days.”

Kathy looked at me confused.  It was a round number.  I moved my hand in a Jedi-like way to dismiss her concern.

How many people were on board? 

“Two!” I was starting to get my confidence back.

Did we have pets? Did we have any firearms?  Did we have any cannabis?

These questions were easy.  I smiled to myself at the ease of which I rattled off “No” to each question. What could they throw at me that I couldn’t answer.

Then she asked the question shook me.  “Do you have any food on board?”

What kind of question was that? It was like asking me if i love my mother. Was it some kind of trick?  We’re on our boat.  Why wouldn’t we have food?  Who doesn’t have food?

A beam of light began to shine through the window and blinded me.  I put my hand up to shield my eyes from the light. This distraction caused a noticeable pause in my answer.  I looked at Kathy for reassurance, but she refused to look at me. My heart began to race.  I had to remind myself to remember my training. “Yes…We have food,” I finally said.

She was quick with her reply.  “Do you have any meat of vegatables?”

I paused.  I looked at Kathy, but she was fiddling with some paper in her hands.  We had been caught in the classic Prisoner’s Dilemma net.  I wondered how to play it.  If we cooperated together, we might be okay. Would she rat me out to save her own skin?  I hardly knew what a vegetable was.  They might believe that.  Yeah.  She’s the one that brought the vegetables.  Should I tell the agent that Kathy brought veggies? I didn’t want to be involved. But I was involved. Kathy had implicated me by her insistance that we always eat some sort of balanced diet!

Kathy started talking.  Wait! I was the Captain, and she was talking!  She was going to rat us out.  I knew it!  My heart began to pound.  I saw the object she was fiddling with.  It was a list!  An entire list of vegetables!  She began to rattle off the list.  Scallions?  What the heck our scallions?  I watched in horror as she continued to rattle off words I’d never heard of.  I couldn’t believe after all these years of marriage she would pick this moment to rat me out.  WHY IS THAT LIGHT IN MY EYES?!  I pictured in my mind’s eye some harsh Canadian prison where I’d be forced to cut trees.  Then Kathy made sure her betrayal was complete by adding, “Oh!  We have meat and cheese too!”

I tried to save myself and stammered out weakly, “I didn’t know about-”

“Hold Please!”

I turned to Kathy!  “You!…You!…”  I couldn’t get the words out.  My face was red with anger. “You’re a rat!”

“What?”  Kathy seemed unconcerned.  

“I just want you to know that I’m not going down alone baby!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Scallions!  You never told me about the scallions!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’d say more…but they’re probably listening!”

The agent immediately came back on the line.   I prepared for the worst as she started to speak, “You’re report number is…”

Huh!  She hadn’t even asked for our passports.  Turns out that the process is pretty easy.  I thanked the agent and hung up.  

I turned to Kathy and reassuringly said, “See!  I told you it would be easy.”