smuggling the motherlode.. could I do it?

First off, I need to clarify that I’m an honest person.. “does this yellow dress make me look fat?” asked my friend. Well.. “it doesn’t make you look skinny” I reply.  I don’t need to be brutally honest either, as I steered her toward the black dresses, I will only quit wearing black when they come out with a darker color.

I’m in the States and the border between our countries (Canada/US) has been fraught with pain for me. My ex was always buying things on wheels that needed customs clearance papers and RIV Canada papers and when we didn’t have stuff to declare, there was always the turmoil of how much booze do we have?

He has a big G on his forehead, GUILTY,  even when we had nothing to worry about. When the border loomed close he lways worked himself up into such a frenzy before crossing that we ALWAYS ended up in a fight and not speaking for hours after the fact.

There was this one time that I will never forget. I used to coach him on what to say, I know, but he always wanted to give them a history of what we did or didn’t do. NEVER VOLUNTEER INFORMATION EVER… EVER.

The questions were always the same. What is your residence? Where are you going? Where did you come from? How long have you been gone? Did you bring back any alcohol?  Aaahhhhh… there it is, the killer question. “Some vodka.”  “HOW much vodka and no, don’t look at me!” ” I already quizzed you on everything they’ll ask and what you should say! EVERY freaking time… as soon as you look over to me for the answers you know he is going to pull us over and go through all our stuff!” I fairly shrieked at him.

So, we make it through virtually unscathed. I want to mention here that we owned a semi pulling our fifth wheel, and all these things require paperwork, which he is in charge of. I specifically told him to have it all together and in one place. We made it through to the other side of the border on and we’re on our way home when we get pulled over by the RCMP on our side (Canada).

RCMP constable jumps up on the running board, asks a few questions, then wants to see all our papers. The ex is all flustered and asks me where they are. Well, I have no clue where he put his papers and calmly tell him so. He then starts to argue with me saying I must know where they are (which I don’t) he then raises his voice, accusing me of god knows what I did with those papers, and then I finally snap..

We are in a full-out, knock-down and drag-out fight, by now, and the officer is looking at us and shaking his head and finally says, “You know what, you guys have enough problems, I think I’ll just leave you two alone”. THANKS A LOT BUDDY! I never spoke to the ex for the whole rest of the trip, and I have never forgotten that. Although we are divorced now, it still makes me cringe.

Since then, I have been traveling across borders on my own now, for five years. I’ve never had any problems, and it has been such a relief. I still remember the incidents, and I’m always truthful and observant, and only answer the questions posed to me.  But it is strange now how very few questions I get asked.

So here I am on the south side of the border with too much tequila (a birthday gift bought in Mexico for my son) a piece of fruit (an apple that I can’t find, so I can either eat it or throw it away) an expensive piece of jewelry that cost me a lot less than the regular price shown in picture, but more than my allotted allowance for me to bring back.

AND I’m bringing back FIFTY THOUSAND Invis-a-bibs tm.  Yes, the motherlode of bibs! They are all secured away in boxes in the back of my Lexis SUV on top of folded down seats covering every square inch and with a big fat huge comforter over top with my bedding, clothes, and shoe,s and .. and.. the rest of my crap, omg!

Long story short (and it is a long story), my new invention took a wrong turn at the manufacturer’s. All these bibs have a defective adhesive and need to be scrapped. They are still effective on most fabrics and skin, but not all.. and that was the kicker. The adhesive needs to be perfect, and that is the reason it has taken me so long to bring my product to market.

So the manufacturer had agreed to replace them, but what to do with this shipment? after much thought I decided to bring them back with me and use them for prototypes and some advertising aspects. I cannot sell them but can use them with discretion for marketing purposes. But how to get them across the border?

All the horrors of past crossings make their way into my consciousness as I keep trying to ferret out that dam apple. It is here somewhere. And where did I pack the tequila and wtf am I going to say about 50,000 defective invis-a-bibs tm anyway? I am starting to feel like my ex… is this how he tortured himself?

Before I can formulate any clear cut answers the border looms ahead and there is no line-up and holy crap, it is my turn. Where is your home, hmmm, Saskatoon, Saskatchewan. How long have you been away.. 51/2 months.. Where were you staying? “Yuma, Arizona,” and why are you crossing here?

Oh oh, but always tell the truth..”as a matter of fact, I met a gal down south from Big Fork Montana and I spent the night at her place” and here I veer from my usual mantra and volunteer that “it is sooo beautiful there I wish I could have spent more time.”

Here we go…  thump, thump goes my heart. How much money in goods are you declaring, he asks me and I look into his eyes that can see right into my soul, oh god.. me..”400 dollars”. What did you buy? me.. “some purses and some jewelry” and right here is where I stumble a bit, but remember the chocolate I bought in Big Fork Montana “oh.. and some chocolate” I say with a big smile. Any alcohol or cigarettes? And this is my litmus test, please be still my heart, “no,” says I without flinching or missing a beat.

“Ok.. welcome back” as he passes me my passport and waves me on, but he didn’t smile. He never cracked a smile the whole time, and he never did ask me about any fruit. Thank God! Needless to say, I still can’t believe I made it through WITHOUT MY PANTS CATCHING FIRE … now where the heck is that dam apple?

I wonder how this story would have turned out had he checked my car at all.. how the heck do I explain fifty thousand Invis-a-bibs tm to a border crossing guard? Smuggling will never be a job option for me …

copyright

April 25th 2015