Me again.
You would not believe how difficult it is to get in and out of a country these days. Take Canada, for an example. I am as you know a chubby little Limey, who happens to live in the land of the maple leaf as a Permanent Resident. To me that sounds like a lodger who refuses to leave, and maybe that is what I am, either way I have done it for four years now and I enjoy it. It's very pleasant, nice people, lots of sun in the summers, many different kinds of snow in the winter ( I saw some yellow snow once - tasted rather odd) and on the whole the world of the Canook/Canuk is a nice little world, until that is you have to deal with official paperwork.
You could ask a group of drunks at two in the morning the shortest route to Florida and get yourself a more clear and coherent plan than you can get a piece of paper (or in my case a piece of plastic) out of the Canadian Government.
Picture the scene at the airport having returned from my first adventure in China.....
"Where are you from sir?"
"I'm from England, but I live in Canada."
"Do you have a Resident Card sir?"
"Well, no I don't, but I do have a drivers licence, health card, Social Insurance card and a large sheet of legal paper in my passport that says I live here."
"I'm sorry sir, that legal sheet of paper is not legal anymore - you must have a card to allow you in to the country. I will let you in this time but you will have to apply for one immediately"
"So what do I do when travelling while I await the arrival of this magical card then?"
"You will have to get a temporary travel permit sir, it will cover you for one return trip from outside of Canada."
"Can I get that here?"
"No sir, you must visit a Canadian Embassy outside of Canada, say Buffalo, to obtain the travel permit to return to Canada"
"So to get this straight - if I leave the country you won't let me in again unless I get a permit to travel, and if I want a permit to travel to Canada I have to leave Canada to apply for it, without somehow using it up while returning to Canada before I really leave Canada for my trip?"
"Yes sir. Have a nice day sir"
The fuse is lit......the seconds tick away.........I am now Mr Phelps............and my mission really is impossible.
So here I sit, on the Peace Bridge, at the border to the US of A, trying to reach the Canadian Embassy. It is 9:00am, and I can see the building from the bridge, it is hidden away within the Hong-Kong & Shanghai Bank plaza in downtown Buffalo. I appreciate there is some twisted irony to the name of the building, but do not wish to dwell on such matters because time is against me.
You see it says on the official government website that the Embassy is open to the public from 8:00am till 4:00pm, and on the very next line it also says that the public are only admitted to the building between 8:00am and 11:00am (What the public go and do with themselves between eleven and four while staying in the building I have no idea, it has the same kind of logic as a sign saying 'Do not read this sign', but who am I to argue?).
You can notice things change as you get over the bridge. A mental adjustment is required on your part, to stop you thinking that a mental adjustment has been administered to everyone else. My car was now a Vee-Hickle, and any signs of intelligence or wit are met with suspicion.
"Where are you going sir?"
"To the Canadian Embassy, to get a travel permit to leave Canada"
"You cannot enter the US without a visa sir"
"I don't really want to enter the US, I just want to go to that building over there and then get back to Canada."
"Please park your Vee-hickle and go through door number one."
"Can I have the prize behind door number two instead?"
The stony silence and the blank look hit me rather hard as I realised that I was now in the realms of the ultimate Customer Support team - they have no sense of humour, they follow their procedures to the letter and will not deviate, and they all have guns with one button and an inscription saying "Point THAT Way" on them, and they will use them if you fail to follow their procedures to the letter.
9:03am So to recap - I am now applying for a visa to enter the US to apply for a permit to enter Canada. I am starting to feel like the two headed pushme-pullyou llama out of Doctor Doolittle, as technically right now I cannot get into either country, and if someone doesn't have a nice day I could find myself living on the bloody Peace Bridge.
10:03am And we are all still here. A couple of snow birds waiting for their visa are telling me that they have been married for almost sixty-one years. Just to try and gage things I ask them how long they had been married when they started lining up for their visa.
10:30am I discover that a labour dispute means that the shiny, happy people of the border are on a work to rule, go slow, doing what they want to all day. Oh joy.
10:35am And I am finally being processed. "Yes..from England.....living in Canada......no I don't want to visit the US........nice gun", when I finally come up against the front line of defence in America's war on terror - a cunning device, foolproof in it's simplicity and impossible to avoid - a questionnaire on a piece of card.
Question 1 - Are you a terrorist?
Question 2 - Are you currently part of any terrorist organization?
Question 3 - Have you ever been involved in any terrorist activities?
I can almost picture the scene when someone ticks the yes column - the sirens must wail, the lights probably flash, and no doubt there are whoops and high fives all round, as another one is caught out. Mind you, they are not alone in the silly questions department - when I left the UK for my new home in the land of the Loon I was asked if anybody had been in my case without my knowledge, to which I replied if it was without my knowledge then how the hell would I know?
10:37am Having passed the test - "Just need your fingerprints scanned and your photograph from this webcam sir. It will not take a minute."
Three crashed pc's later and it still had not taken a minute - or a picture for that matter -
"Can I do it on the way back?"
"No sir"
"Can I draw a sketch?"
"No sir"
"Could you maybe find someone that knows how to use the computer?"
"I do carry a gun sir."
10:45am Finally I am tearing up the streets of Buffalo aiming at the HSBC tower. In my Chrysler Grand Caravan looking like 'Knight Rider - The Retirement Years' I reach the parking lot in one piece and a time that would make KITT proud. (Yes I know it was a one way street - I only went one way down it!) I am here - what could possibly go wrong now?
10:50am "Where are you going sir?"
"To the Canadian Embassy, to get a travel permit to leave Canada"
"Where are you intending to go sir?"
"China"
"Do you have any weapons sir?"
"No, my plan was to visit China, not invade it."
"You cannot see the Ambassador without us checking your Vee-Hickle for weapons sir - please park over here and step away from the Vee-Hickle"
So then follows a farcical attempt to check for weapons which basically consisted of me opening the trunk and two guards staring at my winter recovery kit and a couple of blankets before they cleared me. Luckily I was carrying my 24 pack of grenades on the back seat for easy access next to the bazookas, otherwise there would have been too much explaining to do.
10:57am I am finally in the building where a lady slaps a sticker on my left tit and ushers me into an elevator while saying over her shoulder to Bubba the guarding gorilla "No - more to come in today" The grunt of understanding in return made me realise that I was it - the last one through.
One hour later I am back on the bridge - the Canadian customs guard ask me where I have been and why - I tell him - he rolls his eyes and smiles "Then you have a good afternoon sir" and I am back - and finally I am happy to do what a customs official has told me.
