“Hey, I found pepper spray!” the Canadian Border Patrol officer signaled to his colleague, who proceeded to lock stiff handcuffs around my wrists.
“You are under arrest for attempting to smuggle illegal weapons into Canada.”
“Oh shit.” I was overcome by a flash of heat so intense that it almost brought me to my knees. My top three concerns before going on this journey were:
1. Getting murdered
2. Getting arrested
3. Fucking up in some unforeseen fashion and having to come home early
When I realized that number two on the list was really happening, my whole trip up until that moment, really my whole LIFE up until that moment, began flashing before my eyes. It was incredibly dramatic. However, to those who have been in American jail, rest assured that Canadian jail is comparably a walk in the park. Not on a sunny day, because it’s still jail—but a walk in the park on a day with extreme weather, like a frozen Mid-West winter or muggy East Coast summer. After reading me my rights and assuring me multiple times that they are not like the officers on “the OTHER side”, my handcuffs were unlocked and I was led to the tiny jailhouse portion of the Canadian border. The “cell” they put me in while they searched the rest of Vanna for additional contraband was an empty 10×10 room with one wall made up mostly of those glass window tiles that are beautiful when the sun is shining through them, even though you can’t see what’s on the other side. Despite the aesthetically pleasing differences and far more compassionate tone of the officers, I was still losing my mind. I paced around the room for a few minutes before the voice of an old yoga teacher I had (who I credit in helping me to truly build a relationship with the practice,) floated into my head.
“In this moment, let go of what has already happened. Breathe it out. Focus on what is happening right now. Breathe it in.”
The “cell” was surprisingly clean and I figured I may be going to Canadian jail for the rest of my life anyway, so I sat cross-legged on the floor and began a meditation that would ultimately lead me into one of the most grounding flows I’ve ever experienced. Mid-downward dog, the metal door clicked and then creaked open and the officer who had put me in handcuffs signaled for me to stand and follow him. He told me that I wasn’t being charged with any crime, but I had to pay a fine for forgetting to claim my stupid pepper spray. Note to self: pepper spray IS mace! I couldn’t believe that Number two had happened as a result of my fear of Number one, but I was incredibly relieved that Number two hadn’t happened on “the other side” and then resulted in Number one. I swiped my credit card and paid the fine and a female officer joined the man who had been dealing with me.
“Aw, don’t cry honey. I really don’t think you meant to cause any trouble. At least it didn’t happen over there!” She waved her hand in the general direction of the USA.
“I know.”
“And at least you’ll have a good story to tell your friends back home!”
“I do love a good story.” I was mostly grateful to be reunited with Vanna.
“So,” the male officer and female officer gave each other an amused look, “do you still want to come into Canada?”
It was impossible not to laugh.
“Yes, I do.”
Canada was beautiful. Driving along the backroads I found myself surrounded by vast farmland and then suddenly rows of trees with a type of diversity amongst them that I had previously only ever seen in upstate New York. I enjoyed two nights of sleeping in fancy, well-lit and fully staffed rest-stops equipped with WiFi, 24-hour restaurants and gas pumps (where gas is sold by the liter!) I was constantly amazed by how different things can feel on the other side of a non-existent line. Brand names and license plates were surprising enough, but to see the differences in how people interact with each other was a whole new experience.
I went to a local supermarket chain called Zehr’s to pick up some basic groceries before crossing the border back into New York. The woman behind the cash register seemed to be humored by my infatuation with Canada.
“Don’t fool yourself sweetie, not everybody is so nice.”
“I can imagine.”
“But everybody can go to the doctor when they get sick. Ha ha!” She flashed me a toothy smile and I awkwardly shot one back.
“Ha…”
Oh, Canada.
***Picture taken at Niagara Falls in Ontario, Canada
Wandering Woman 