Border Crossing

"There I was at the immigration scene
Shining and feeling clean
Could it be a sin?
I got stopped by the immigration man
He says he doesn't know if he can
Let me in-let me in-immigration man
Can I cross the line and pray
I can stay another day
Let me in immigration man
I won't toe your line today
I can't see it anyway"

"Immigration Man"
Graham Nash



Thursday morning

I crossed back into the US at Grand Portage, MN, right near the western shore of Lake Superior. I was motioned up to the gate and immediately asked where my license plates were. I went on to explain the long story of unsuccessfully trying to register the car in NY and he asked me to pull over to the side.

Well, after playing 50 questions, they asked me to go inside, took my camping knife (they gave it back) and told me they were going to search my car. I couldn't even watch.

I mean, I know I looked like a tree-hugging dope-smoking weirdo with my dirty jeans, hair getting long, unshaven, with my little brown skullcap on, and probably smelled like a goat cause I hadn't showered in 3 days, but hell, I'm a US citizen! Do I look like a terrorist?

(Don't answer that)

After an hour, they decided to let the Minnesota State Troopers have a free shot at me for expired tags, but they passed.

I'll look forward to more of this BS when I reenter from British Columbia.

And to wonder why so many Mexicans just try to jump the fence? This country is a prison in some ways.