As many of you may know four years ago, in the height of our bus driving days, the Incontinent Dog and myself, were asked to leave Canada. More accurately, they wouldn’t let Bar Car in. It seems there is some Canadian law that prevents those of us who have had minor indiscretions in our youthful, cocksure days, from entering Canada until five years after the date of arrest. So the Dog and I had to leave. In these post 9-11 days of heightened security we were asked to sign documents, sixteen carbon copies thick, acknowledging our refuted admittance, and our peaceful exit. We did as we were asked, disappointed upon being so close to Vancouver but without opportunity to see it, but as the Canadians would say, c’est la vie.
Fast forward four years to Dog going on a business trip to Canada, with an esteemed work colleague, to make the acquaintance of some potential, new clients in Canada. These clients have never had the privilege of meeting Dog in person. Dog and associate arrive in Canada, an hour and a half late, due to air traffic delays, flash passports and are rushing to make their meeting on time when, what this? Dog you must go to Immigrations? Your passport is flagged? Dog obeys and heads over to the interrogation room.
Inside Interrogation room is two Hassidic Jewish men, one man in full African robes, and Dog. The interrogation begins: What are you doing? Where are you going? Where do you work? Have you ever been here before? Why did you leave? Who are you going to see? Can I have their number? Dog obliges all but puts up a meek protest,
“Do you have to call these potential clients to corroborate my story? I’ve never met them? This is my job?” Interrogation man cares not. He calls the Canadian clients that are awaiting Dog and colleague; now officially late for first meeting. The potential, new clients concede they are expecting Dog and he gains clearance to Canada.
Flustered and embarrassed Dog gets to the meeting. He is nervous and as he is sitting in front of all the Canadians, they start talking and laughing in French. Some of them are laughing rather hard. Dog is curious, but too determined to make a good impression. At least they are laughing and not irritated. He gives his presentation and just as he is about to be finished, he catches a glimpse of his fly. Someone is afraid of heights. Dog had given his presentation with his fly down. In what can only be assumed to be the wrath of Canada, Dog’s previously agreeable zipper has defaulted and left Dog to stand the humiliation in a roomful of Canooks, having a good laugh at his expense.
True Story. The neat tip is, don’t mess with Canada.
4 comments:
Don't mess with Canada indeed. I have had an encounter with the border patrol which involved Bobbi (who was by no means intimidated by our neighbors to the north), some Connecticut kids, and a whole bunch of Ghost tee shirts. "I feel I...never have told you..the story of"..this encounter. Good times and sweet neater.
Neater= great neat tip (Hager invented the word neater)
I think socialized health care and the french language are overrated. They probably dont even watch the wire in Canada.
The only reason they flagged his passaporte is because they say a few photos of TY in his communist holloween outfit.
Sweet neater indeed.
Hi Mike
Ball bustin Canucks indeed. What does second place for a your whole life feel like?
The publicly private online lovefest between S dot and ol' wet bob Norman Dale adds an extra element of comedy to the Neatness.
i actually have a long standing love affair with our neighbors to the north. from chugging wildcat on the teen ski canada trip to team falldown in Toronto i have many fond memories of that place. the home of alan thicke, robert gulet, SCTV, james neismith, brett "the hitman" heart, feist, and steve nash has always been alright with me. i too have a bobbi border story. after the 9.9.99 show in vancouver we were making the drive back to some heady town in washington state but hit some major traffic at the checkpoint. as arnie gillman might say, it was bumper to fricking bumper. i nod off for a while and next thing i know i am awoken to the loudest cacophony of car, bus and big rig horns. i quickly realize that all five young men squeezed into the GT are sound asleep and that traffic appears to have been moving for some time as we are the lone car in our lane for miles. bobbi popped up and got us thru the border without further incidence. xyz............
go canada.
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