Oh, Canada

Thanks to the Grandmas for taking care of the kids, we were able to get away for an extended weekend!! Paul has been wanting to go to Niagra Falls for a while, so that was the place of choice. Instead of driving to New York to get there, we thought it'd be interesting to head up through Michigan, cross into and drive through Canada, stay at the Falls, then head back west through New York. Our drive there proved to be a bit more interesting than we anticipated.

Paul took off early from work on Wednesday and we got on the road around 4. There was a crash on I-80 (along with narrowing of lanes for roadwork), so we sat on the interstate for an hour and a half waiting for it to get cleared. We stopped around 9 to find a hotel in Michigan, but apparently there had been an oil spill in the next town and the clean-up workers had been filling many of the hotels for the last couple months. Oh, there was still room, but from the prices, you could tell they weren't hurting for business.

Not long after we checked in, Grandma called to let us know that someone rear-ended her car while she was bringing the boys home from soccer practice. You know it's not good news when the conversation starts with "Everyone's OK, but we had a little incident..." It was only a minor fender bender, but Grandpa and Daddy thought it'd be best to have everyone checked out at a chiropractor the next day. The chiropractor wouldn't see them without written permission from their parents, so that meant finding a fax machine to send our permission for Grandma and Grandpa to take them in. We really should have left a medical note anyhow, but didn't think of it. After searching far and wide for a Staples in Detroit, Michigan, we finally got the note faxed. Afterward, we checked out their laptops and purse-size cameras (since both of ours died recently), and found a great deal on a nice Dell Laptop. It was clearanced and just about half off! Being that we can't pass up a great deal...

Which bring us to our next adventure... Detroit is just across the river from Windsor, Ontario in Canada. We took the tunnel under the river that separates the two (I've never driven under water!) and wound up at the Border Crossing in Canada. The nice guy in the dark-tinted booth checked our passports, asked where we were headed and if we had anything to declare. Paul had heard from a co-worker that you should declare anything you have that you can think of, so he listed off what he thought they'd want to know... a camera, clothes, a few laptops... The guard asked if he had any weapons or firearms? "No". Any cash? "Yes. A couple hundred." He closed his darkened window for a bit then reappeared. Apparently we looked or said something suspicious, because when he came out he repeated, "Sir, do you have a gun?" "No." He went back into his little booth then stepped out with a yellow ticket and sent us over to immigration to have our car searched. We were met by four other police with, "Please step out of your car and up to the sidewalk." They put on black leather gloves and searched every nook and cranny. They opened all our suitcases, glove compartments, camera bags, backpacks (and rudely didn't zip them back up, mind you)... they even tried to check inside the door panels. As Paul and I, his pregnant wife, were standing and waiting, one officer barked at us, "Sir, get your hands out of your pockets." (Paul had his fingertips casually in his jeans pockets while we were waiting). Finally, having found cheerios and fries on the floor instead of drugs or weapons, they grabbed our brand, spankin' new laptop (still in the box) and said, "Why do you have this?" "Well, it was a really good deal at Staples in Detroit." "Sir, you should not bring things like this over the border. How do we know you aren't intending to give it to someone in Canada?" Paul, worried that they'd confiscate it, thought he'd win their sympathy by telling them our accident and faxing saga. Personally, I don't think they're allowed to have sympathy. We were officially scolded and sent to another building for approval. We did make it through, but I was left with a bad taste in my mouth for Canada, and after all that, we didn't even get a stamp in our passport! Apparently, US Citizens don't get one. What a raw deal!

Oh, and the drive from Windsor to Niagra reminded me of Nebraska. Plain, old boring.