Last Friday, I was on my way back to Virginia from my big Canadian vacation. After crossing the Thousand Islands Bridge, I found quite a line at US Customs to officially cross the border. There were about six queues, each stacked about eight cars deep. The Border Patrol agents were trying to open two more lanes, so they were stopping cars, redirecting cars, and trying to give instructions to us. I know they were thinking that each driver they’re dealing with is behind the wheel of a 2000-plus pound lethal machine, so they were trying to be polite but firm, secure in their authority. And also, with this being June and a warm day, loud enough to be heard through closed windows and over idling motors. Not the best of circumstances for them, I can imagine. I turned off my air conditioner and opened my windows, because I really didn’t want to miss an instruction and get into trouble at a border crossing (and end up in GTMO!).
One agent was barking orders to us, lining us up and getting us organized. He was a little intimidating, but I understood what he was up against. Not so, the lady in the car next to me, with her teenaged daughter in the front seat and her pre-teen daughter in the back seat, and with her Ontario license plates. After the agent walked past, to give instructions to the cars behind us, she sighed and said, “He scares me.” Then she moved her right hand from where it rested atop the steering wheel, placed it on her daughter’s knee and said, “All Americans scare me.”
This made me sad. I know it’s hard to separate individuals from your view of their culture or from the actions of their government, but still. We’re not all that intimidating or scary. Most of us are just like you. We have children, and we have parents and siblings, and we have cars and homes and errands to run. We don’t like having to wait in line, and we don’t like to have orders barked at us either.
I wish I could have gotten out of my car, shaken her hand, introduced myself to her (”Hi, I’m Taleswapper, and I’m an American.”), and told her all of this. Maybe played Sting’s Russians song for her. Of course, if I’d stepped out of my car, I probably would be in GTMO now. Oh well…
On behalf of my country and my province, I’m sorry, taleswapper.
It can be really tough to get past some of the ideas we have, especially the way things are blasted through the media. And, of course, it can just be hard to get past fear of the unknown, especially if we think something (or someone) is different.
But, yeah, most of the Americans I’ve met in my three trips to the US have been good people. (And I’ve met my share of Canadians I don’t think so highly of, too!)
2007
terabithianking