Factories

On Tuesday I took a brief road trip to Niagra Falls. Myself and a couple of exceptional friends drove to New York and then walked into Canada. It was pretty easy to get into Canda - I just showed them my license, they asked if I was born in the United States, then they let me right on through. It was the same thing on the way back except the border guards were older and far more stern and had a computer that they typed things into.

The Canadian customs people had no computer, thus could not verify anything and were forced to believe that I was born in the United States based strictly on my word and my word only. I could have easily lied and said "no" and they'd have been none-the-wiser. I could have told them I was born in Spain -- hell! I coulda told them I was born in Atlantis and they'd have to believe me! I mean, all they saw was my license. The only information they could gather from it is that I wear corrective lenses, am an organ doner, and an Aquarius (as if they couldn't already get that from my quirky personality!) But really, what else do you need to know when letting one into your country?

So I told them that I was born in Russia, but birthed on a map of the United States because my mother worked in a map factory/hospital. And they were totally cool with it. Thus I concluded that Canada is a lot more fun than the United States, as can clearly be seen in this graph to the right. They are just so much more laid back and easy-going. The United States customs agents though? Not a fan of my map factory joke. Well, I suppose that's why they're working in customs and not a laugh factory that specializes in jokes about map factories.

Eventually I got back into the United States and went to a classy one-star Motel 6 where I slept and dined like a hooker.