Grégoire Sieuw
Get out the car, please.
Good memories! The first time I came to the United States, I traveled by road down Adirondack Highway between Montreal and Plattsburgh, New York. It was a beautiful summer day ... September 11.
We headed south, two Quebecois in the front of the car and an unshaven, long-haired Belgian in the back. At the border, we were asked, "Why are you entering our country?" and my friend said "hitchhiking" rather than "hiking" ... bad idea! With one hand on his belt, the other on his rifle, the officer made us park and get out. While the car was searched (praying they wouldn't steal our cookies!), I had to hand over my passport and a sum of USD 6, and they took my fingerprints. I was assured that I would then be able to move freely for several months.
My second experience came in Boston, trying to leave the country. You'd think it would be easier to get out than to get in ... as if! I was interviewed for a quarter of an hour, being asked what I did before trying to flee by plane. I really ought to cut my hair and shave more often!
My father had the same problems thirty years before ... be careful, the most famous customs trap is on the border at Niagara Falls. Don't forget your passport, and remember, if you take a plane to the US, "I don't speak English" doesn't work!
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