I was up at 4am yesterday to take my very first trip to Canada!
I’m in Vancouver! I came by myself to meet Mike, who’s up here writing and producing the reboot of Prison Break. (Don’t worry, someone is staying at the house with The Woogs. It’s not just robots this time.)
Upon arrival, I got pulled aside and absolutely grilled by a border agent. (My least favorite Border Grill?) Man, I learned right-quick that not all Canadians are funny. (Thanks for feeding me lies, Comedy Central.) Yeesh, this dude was deeply humorless in a way that I’ve never encountered. He asked me a couple of questions — probably the standard, “Have you been to Canada before?” “Why are you here?” He asked me what line of work I was in, and I responded “blogger.” “Is that how you make a living?” I joked, “yeah… well… I wouldn’t describe it as ‘making a living,’ but sure that’s where my money comes from.” And he looked at me and, uncomfortably serious, asked, “why wouldn’t you describe it like that?” “Um, because it doesn’t pay very much? Never mind, it was just a dumb joke. What else you got?” And every other attempt at levity was met with not even a smile. My charms were useless against the most Not Amused Border Agent ever.
Then he just went down this chain of questions solely about Mike… how long is he here for? What does he do? (I felt fancy answering, “he’s an Executive Producer.”) How long have you known him? (“This month it’ll be a year!” she said with a flourish. Not Amused Border Agent was not amused.) How old is he? (40-1! I still haven’t gotten used that. Oh shit, does he think I’m lying? Why did I stutter at that question?) What’s his birthday? (Fuck, I could barely remember MY birthday under these rapid-fire questions.) I was starting to think that maybe Mike was some Canadian crime lord!
Or… maybe I was actually the crime lord? Because…
