Are you sure you're not from Montreal?

Dave doesn't always have the greatest luck when it comes to crossing the border.

Once, a couple of years ago, we were on our way home from a trip to Florida. We had already boarded the plane, the carry-on luggage was stowed, and we were about to pull away from the gate. Suddenly, a flight attendant rushed down the isle looking for a Mr. Parsons. Dave admitted to being just the man she was searching for. She asked to see his passport. He obliged, and she walked away with it, really walked away, as in left the plane.


A few minutes passed. There was no sign of the flight attendant, or Dave's passport. The plane remained grounded, passengers started fidgeting, and I started weighing my options. "If Dave's arrested, should I stay and try to bail him out? Or should I go home and try through official channels?" Thankfully, it never came to that.


The passport snatcher eventually reappeared. She handed the all-important document back to Dave and turned to walk away. "Um, what was that all about?" Dave asked. "It's nothing," she said as she continued down the isle to prepare her "fasten your seatbelts" demonstration.


Another time we flew to Vegas. As we crossed through airport customs, a border agent glanced at Dave's passport, then at Dave, then at his passport again.

The ensuing conversation went something like this: "You are from Montreal?" "No, I'm from Bathurst, New Brunswick" (this was during his pre-Moncton years). "So, are you from Montreal?" "No, I'm from Bathurst, New Brunswick". "You're looking for work in the United States?" No, I'm an engineer, I'm going to Vegas for my girlfriend's family reunion." "Come with me please. You too miss."


We were ushered through various metal detectors to a back room guarded by men wearing starched shirts, and carrying various walkie-talkies. Another customs agent looked at Dave, ran his passport through the system and asked, "so, are you from Montreal?" Dave calmly repeated his earlier statement-- that didn't seem to cut it.

The agent opened our carry-on bags, took everything out, passed a wand over each item, and, as we re-packed, he opened our suitcases and repeated the experiment.
He didn't seem to find anything incriminating, because, once we re-packed, he let us go.
We rushed to our gate, only to find our plane was delayed-- for three hours.

Since then, Dave has made repeated, uneventful entrances into the United States on business. So, as he flew to Peoria, IL for a conference this past February, bored customs officials merely gave his soon-to-expire passport a cursory glance. This time, it was the weather which conspired against him.


He was supposed to fly to Detroit on Sunday, overnight there, and fly to Peoria in time to catch the Monday afternoon portion of his conference. He did make it to Detroit, he overnighted, he got to the airport early Monday morning, all without incident. However, this was February, and a blizzard was raging-- or so claimed the airlines.

After Dave checked his luggage and proceeded to the gate to prepare for the short flight to Peoria, he was told the flight was cancelled. Not just delayed, but cancelled. Airline officials told him they would put him on a bus to Peoria late that afternoon. Of course, that would mean he'd miss the first day of the conference.

So, Dave, and a collegue also headed to the conference, decided to rent a car and find their way there on their own. This might sound like a bad idea-- especially given the weather, and especially if you're familiar with Dave's um, imperfect (non-existant) sense of direction. Thankfully, the rental company had vehicles equipped with GPS devices. And thankfully, the "storm" was nothing compared to a good Atlantic nor'easter.

But there was still one problem. Luggage.
Dave had already checked his bags. The airline refused to un-check it. It was to be sent on the bus with the rest of the passengers later that day. It would be dropped off at the Peoria Airport, and no, they would not deliver it to his hotel.

He called United Airlines' customer service hotline for help. They told him to call the "airline of origin"-- Air Canada. He told them that was BS....eventually, he convinced United to send the bags to his hotel. They did, for a fee of 15 dollars.
And you thought Air Canada was bad.