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!). 


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