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Border Bullshit
Eigh was supposed to visit me for an extended long weekend in Toronto. So this week I busied myself going grocery shopping, cleaning my house and generally preparing for his arrival. Unfortunately, the assholes at the Canadian border fucked up all our plans. A driving while impaired conviction Eigh received about 2 years ago made him ineligible for entrance into Canada, or so they say... So I'm sitting at work at about 4:30 p.m. on Wednesday and my phone rings. It's Eigh telling me the situation and asking if I could drive to Detroit to meet him and maybe figure out a way to get him across the border. So I race home, pack an overnight bag and hop on the 401 West in a pouring rainstorm. The rain was so goddamn heavy that there were points during that drive when some people were just pulling over and parking their cars at the side of the road. Not me. I don't understand what the point of pulling over is anyway. Just drive through it and it will eventually end, which it did. When I got to the Detroit tunnel, I was getting a little freaked, knowing I was driving underneath all that water and wondering what would happen if it caved in. I am claustrophobic enough as it is. This was also the first time that I felt actual fear about entering the good old U.S of A and I have been to America more times than I can count. I met Eigh at the Days Inn Detroit and it was so great to see him that I basically forgot about all the bullshit that's been going on, at least for a little while. The next day, we find out he's supposed to mail in some dumb form and pay $200 Canadian to apply for a Minister's Permit, which could still be denied. We decided to spend the weekend in Wisconsin and headed for the highway. In Chicago, Eigh decided to take a sort of shortcut route around the main interstate highways, which took us through some very scary looking neighbourhoods in a city I already can't stand. Some bastard in a pick-up truck was behind me at one point and wanted in. I didn't even see him and was driving behind Eigh and didn't want to lose him but I had to let the guy in when he started yelling something like: "Fucking let me in," as if he owned the road. Men normally deal with stress and bad situations by getting angry. So do I (I have been told I was a man in my last life and don't doubt it) but my foolish female hormones kick in and the stupid crying begins. I hate crying and try to stop myself but it seems the floodgates opened a week or so ago and it's tough to close them back up again. So needless to say, I start bawling my eyes out in the car. I was tired and afraid. We somehow managed to get out of Chicago and we're safe and sound in Wisconsin. Now, however, I am completely paranoid about driving back across the country by myself on Sunday. I've heard reports that another terrorist attack could take place in the U.S. this weekend. Wish me luck...
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