Weekend Stop in Canada

I’ve always wanted to go to Canada and given that I live just outside of Seattle, that puts me at about 2.5-3 hours from the Canadian border. I don’t know where the American/Canadian beef stems from, but I hear the jibber-jabber every now and  then. I don’t really consider the beef between the two countries as racist as many would conclude when it’s between Americans and Mexicans. After all, at the end of the day, it’s not like Canadians are whiter than Americans. I’ve seen very pasty white people before, but in order to throw me off you gotta be translucent or look like the main character from the movie Powder. But I get it, to each their own…

On my way to Canada, my wife and I made a quick DQ blizzard stop in Bellingham, which is like the Tijuana of Mexico (without the infamous donkey shows) and relatively close to the border. I asked the dude working there how far the border was and his response, “I don’t know.” Really, cabron? How do you work and live 23 miles from another country and not know how far it is? Like some of my güero counterparts say, “I was appalled.”

Then came the fun part where the border patrol starts asking questions and they make you feel like you’re hiding something when you’re not. I get why they do what they do, and no matter how hard you smile at them, good luck breaking their poker face. I still gave it a shot and managed to get the officer to smile. Victory is mine.

The purpose of the trip was to meet up with an amazing friend/mentor that had recently relocated to Canada. Quality people are always worth the drive, especially if it’s only a few hours away. We are all in a crazy journey that is called life. Reconnecting with someone who has witnessed your journey and is rooting for you the entire way is amazing, even when an overweight belly dancer that looks like Prince comes out of nowhere and interrupts your deep conversation just because he wants to spit fire out of his mouth…