Badges

something for us.”

    “Okay. Until then, I’ll take my place on the inspection lines,” Jeff said as he left. He headed out and opened one of the traffic lanes that allowed vehicles that had been checked by the agents through the border.

    The morning was routine-filled with checking passports and looking inside of cars crossing the border. Agents also asked questions, such as, “What is the purpose of your visit to the United States? Where are you staying in the United States? How long will you be staying? Do you have anything to declare?”

    Only if the agent heard what he or she suspected was a lie, or the hair stood up on the back of the agent’s neck, did the car get directed to a side area. There, if necessary, the car could be dismantled in a search for contraband. A drug-detecting K-9 could also be brought in to go over every square inch of the car’s occupants and their possessions, as well as the car.

    Nothing like that happened this particular morning, and when Jeff saw it was time to take care of his new duty, he headed into the border office, picked up a large brown envelope marked “For Canadian Immigration,” and began his walk across the roadway between the two borders. As he crossed after showing his identification, he looked down off the roadway and into the ravine beside the crossing.

    The five-minute walk brought him to the Canadian immigration building that housed the operations center for the US’s northern neighbors. Jeff walked in and looked around and saw someone who appeared to be a supervisor.

    “Good morning, sir. I’m here with the morning delivery.”

    “Right. New?”

    “First time, but I’ve been assigned to this post for two months now.”

    “Okay, that explains it then. I’ll overlook your impertinence and insult this one time. If it happens again, you’ll be banned from crossing over to the Canadian side,” said the stern-looking official.

    “Pardon me, sir, but what insult? What impertinence?” Jeff asked while turning red from embarrassment.

    “Did they not tell you, then?”

    “Tell me what, sir? I was instructed to deliver the morning briefing report and take back anything you had for us, and that’s it!” the now-exasperated young agent said.

    As the conversation went on, more and more Canadian officials and agents gathered around. One of them asked, “What’s going on? Don’t tell me he insulted the queen!”

    “Queen?” Jeff replied.

    “Yes, I’m afraid so. The bastards over there didn’t even bother to tell him the proper manner in which to enter into our station house here,” the supervisor replied.

    “Will you just tell me what the hell I didn’t or did do?”

    “When any American official from Customs and Border Protection enters into a Canadian facility, he must find the picture of Her Majesty, which in this case is over there, and bow three times to the queen. That is the agreed upon way for you Yanks to apologize for that thing you called the Revolution. Ever since King George lost that little spat, this has been a recognized way for you Yanks to maintain goodwill with us Canadians.”

    Jeff was totally flustered as he looked at the faces of the men who had gathered around him. Not one was smiling, and some appeared to be angry.

    “Well?” the supervisor yelled.

    “Yes, yes, of course,” Jeff said as he walked over in front of the queen’s picture and bowed three times to her before turning around. “Was that done correctly?”

    “Yes, sir, we forgive your unintentional insult. Barry, give this man the document we have for the American side.”

    The supervisor then turned and left the room. The other men went back to their business, and Barry, who turned out to be a very cute young customs officer, came over to Jeff and exchanged envelopes with him.

    “That’s all we have for today. Did I hear you say you’ve only been assigned here for two months?”

    “Actually, I’m just starting my second month. So, is this insult thing over with?”

    “Yeah, it’s already forgotten,” Barry replied with a smile.

    As Jeff started to leave to return to his post, he stopped and turned back to Barry. “Maybe we can get a beer together sometime and talk about our jobs, ya know, just stuff?”

    “Yeah, as long as you’re not mad as hell with me.”

    “Mad at you? Why would I be mad at you?”

    “Ya never know! When you off next?”

    “I have three days off coming up the day after tomorrow.”

    Barry