I sat down to compose my weekly article the other night, and I had a bad case of Writer’s Block.  So, I went next door to The Legion for a couple bottles of thinking juice and some inspiration.  Upon arrival, I had a great conversation with Norm, Kathy, and Daryl Johnson about expired passports, travelling outside of the US, and more.  It reminded me of a funny story to tell this week, so thanks for that, and have a great trip!!

About 15 years ago, a group of sons and dads planned a fishing trip to Lac Seul in Ontario.  The Sherman boys and Rich, The Luense boys and Jim, myself and Dave, and Zachious Binder and Jim Hyde (his adopted father for the week) all loaded up early one morning for the trek north.

We had two vehicles packed as tight as possible with our gear for the week, and the contents were loaded strategically and efficiently to ensure everything fit, with enough room for the necessary supplies that we would be loading from the duty-free store at the border.

On the drive up, the young men rode together in one suburban, with the grizzled veteran anglers in the other.  The plan was to reorganize before the border to ensure that everyone was in the same vehicle as their luggage.  Apparently the elder statesmen of the group forgot that plan, and as we walked out of the duty-free shop, we realized that they had already taken off.

You are supposed to pick up your duty-free items right before you enter the line for Canadian Customs, but unfortunately the dads were too excited, and they drove right past their pile of beer and liquor and entered the border patrol gates.  We got our stash, and wondered how they were going to get theirs.

We pulled into Customs, and the patrolman at our gate decided we would be the lucky recipients of a random vehicle search.  After we pulled into the inspection lanes, two armed guards began rummaging through our bags.  It didn’t take them long to find the drugs that we were illegally transporting into Canada.  We had 3 of the old guys’ bags, and there were dozens of prescriptions that didn’t match the ID’s of anyone in our truck.  That is a “no-no”, I guess.

Luckily, as things were getting serious, a suburban heading back to the states honked at us.  It was the rest of our crew, heading back across the border to get their stash.  They were laughing and carrying on, unconcerned with our situation.  My dad yelled out “We’ve got to go back across!!  We forgot our beer!!”

That ended our search.  “Now I understand,” said one of the officers.  “Have a great trip, and keep those guys out of trouble.”


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