Apparently I set off a few flags when I attempted to cross the Canadian border. It seems to be a common occurrence when I am crossing border back into the U.S. As a child, crossing back from Ontario to Michigan with my dad, I was separated and interrogated about whether or not he was actually my father. Since, then, I’ve had my car searched several times, been brought out and questioned, and even off-handedly asked if the reason I went to Sault Ste. Marie, Ontario was to go to the strip club.
The prospect of me, as they seemed to sum it up, of a 25 year old with no job or rental back home and who only had a one-way ticket did not fit well with their immigration standards. Apparently they assumed I was coming in and had no intention to leave Canada. I was asked about my cash on hand, how much I had in my bank account, whether I had medical insurance, why I was going somewhere I didn’t know anyone, and asked to provide proof of my lodging reservations.
Every person on the Greyhound bus went through this process. Although, coming from a place like New York City, I hardly figured that I would be the character on the bus that would stand out enough to delay the trip for my interrogation.
Finally after them running some background check and convincing them that I was just a low-key traveler who was moving on from Canada as soon as I figured out where I wanted to go, they let me pack up and get back on the bus.
From there it was just about 50 more kilometers to Montreal, just north of the border.
