Dont Traffic Babies into Canadian when you Live in your Car

We had a little snag getting into Canada.  The border patrolmen turned out to be less funny when they are not on horseback.

[Below is a recreation of the dialogue that happened at the Canadian border, in which Keith and I almost peed our pants in laughter.]

The Canadian border patrolman stared us down.  

"Take out everything from your pockets," he ordered.

I pulled out a few receipts and a condom.  I looked up at him and laughed. 

"I was hoping to get laid tonight," I chuckled.  

“Do you know what we are looking for,” said the border patroller.  As the other officers searched my car.

“Drugs,” I said.

 Trying not to laugh at the Canadian officer.

“Firearms,” said Keith.

“Alcohol, tobacco…baby trafficking…” I said.

Baby trafficking! Why did I say that.  There was dead silence.  Keith looked at me with utter disbelief.  He clenched his teeth to keep from laughing.  The border patrolman looked away.  He was not pleased. 

“We are also looking for child pornography, large amounts of money that might link you to drug trafficking,” he said.

“We have none of that officer,” I retorted half smirking. 

“You may wait in the other room behind the glass,” he said.

They border patrollers continued to dismantle my car, piece by piece.  Keith and I sat in the other room laughing as the officers tasted Keiths whey protein. 

“They probably think its coke.”

The officers bent down and smelled my clothes.  They looked through my first aid kit then put it back in my car.

“Woo, good thing they didn’t find the needles”

One of the officers came into the waiting room, “So do you guys live in that car?”

“Just me officer,” I said.

“Would you say that is your permanent residence?”

“Ummm….for now, yes!”

“How long have you lived in there?”

“For about 6 months at a time.”

“And has anyone used any narcotics within the premisis of your car.”

“Probably, but who can be sure these days,” I chuckled.

He was not amused.  For the next hour we waited as they operated on my car.  I cried a little bit inside as they disrobed my beautiful packing job and how they threw things back in my car with no care.  They obviously were not good at tetris.  They called us back in the warehouse. 

“Did we pass the test?”  I said.

“Not yet,” the officer mumbled. 

He asked us a series of questions.  

“You can leave now.”

“Officer I have one more question for you.” “Where does the word “Ay” come from?”

“Get out of here,” he yelled.

The officers mounted their horses and rode off.  Wow!  We both looked at each other.  We made it into Canada.  Though we still have not discovered the meaning of “Ay.”

We made it!

In Search of the Origins of "Ay"

Seasons pass and times move foreword.  I find myself yet again wandering further west.  I am getting restless.  Being in a home for the past few months has replenished my spirits and given me time to excite my passions.  Though I cant help but look for a place I want to settle down for a while.  There is only so long one can wander without the comforts of a home base.

I am writing this as my buddy Keith and I are headed up to the great state of Canada.  A place where meuse are pets and people dogsled to work.  We are going to Banff mainly in search for the origins of the word “Ay” but also because of the awesome climbing.  Banff is the holy grail of North American ice climbing.  Mark Twight, a famous mountaineer, once described ice climbing near Banff similarly to popping a Viagra and having an orgasm nonstop for days. 

Keith and I have some big plans for the week.  Hope the weather holds.

View of somewhere in Northern Montana.