The typical international border crossing comes complete with the standard questions:
Q: Can I see your passport?
A: Yes, but don’t laugh at the picture.
Q: What are you bringing?
A: Nothing (except the trunk load of Cuban cigars)
Q: Do you have more than $10,000 on you?
A: Umm, I work for a newspaper.
But this is Detroit to Windsor, Ontario. And this is Super Bowl week. This is not your typical border crossing.
Heading across to Canada last night, Herald photographer Jenny Buchanan and I were a little annoyed that we picked the wrong little mini-interrogation line. You know, it’s just like at the grocery store, when you get stuck behind the person who swears the potatoes were $1.89 a pound, not $1.99. And they’ve got two potatoes!
Anyway, we soon found out why the line took a while.
This particular agent used the calming, conversational approach to his job. He never even looked at our passports, just asked if we were from Illinois (because of the license plate on our rental car). We told him we were in from the Seattle area to cover the game.
“Yeah, nobody here cares about the Seahawks,” he said, pensively. “I don’t understand why, you know. They led the league is sacks, they allowed fewer points than the Steelers did. I just don’t get it.”
I don’t either.
But the other thing I didn’t get was how to respond to this guy. I mean, I’m kind of a jittery guy at border crossings. I always feel guilty, even though I’m never doing anything wrong. I’m likely to pull up to the booth, get out, open my car and dump all of its contents onto the pavement so they can see I’m not guilty.
But what do I say to this guy? He wants to know that I am who I say I am. Do I start rattling off statistics for every Seahawks player? Do I just nod?
It didn’t matter. He told us he’s pulling for the Hawks and sent us on our way.
Coming back into the states, we got another talker.
This one, a nice young woman, found out we were reporters and immediately asked us what we think of Detroit. We told her we’ve enjoyed it, so far, and she launched into a tirade about the left-hand turn laws in this town. Basically, it’s tough to turn left, and the bigger streets have medians that are specifically designed for you to make a U-turn after the intersection, rather than having you turn left at the light.
I’d already thought it was a little weird, but no big deal.
She thinks it’s a big deal, but the left turns in New Jersey are worse.
She didn’t question us any further. She only asked that I write nice things about Detroit — which I have already done — and that if I write anything about the left-hand turns in Detroit, that I say New Jersey’s are worse.
So, even though I’ve hardly ever driven in New Jersey, here it is:
The left-hand turns in Detroit are weird. But they’re worse in New Jersey.
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