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May 8, 2006

Fun in the Sunshine State

Meanies, kids and cellulite

It started when I arrived at the border in Detroit on Friday. Now, I expect to be asked a lot of questions at the border, even if I've gotten used to the "Oh, you're an author. That's so cool!" response. But this time, I don't think that telling the hard-edged guy that I write romances for a living and proudly showing him a coverflat was going to help me at all.

For the first time in my life, I came across a border control guy who was mean. Not thorough--which I expect--but mean. The kind of mean where if you looked up the word in the dictionary, you'd find his picture. I'd driven with my family 3 hours at this point when I reached the border, only to get a guy who got off on power tripping. The kind of guy who would love it if he could find a reason to turn you back and make you drive another 3 hours home just to get some form of something to prove you weren't secretly hoping to sneak into the US, never to come back.

I travel to the US often. I have for years. I even lived in Florida for a short time. Everything on my record comes up squeaky clean. Yet for the first time, I had a border control officer tell me that I HAD to bring pay stubs with me, or my mortgage title to prove that I wouldn't be staying in the States once I crossed the border. (Now, if I really was a scary person, would those items really make a difference?) I smiled politely and told him that no one had ever mentioned that to me, that I usually cross in Buffalo versus Detroit, and he responded, "Well, Buffalo is where most of the criminals cross over."

Huh?

Me, a criminal? That's laughable. I was married to a cop for many years, thank you very much. Okay, maybe he wasn't saying he thought I was a criminal, but the reference was a little...well, a little strong. I found myself feeling a little like Bridget Jones, about to be whisked away to an overcrowded prison in another country. Though I wouldn't have the savvy lawyer boyfriend to come rescue me, although I could call the cop ex-husband.

I smiled and was polite in all my answers, and this guy still threatened to send me back home--all the while saying that he didn't understand how Canadians just "couldn't understand" what he was saying. I wanted to interject, "Um, sir...you aren't very clear in what you're saying. And if you lost that awful scowl, well, maybe people wouldn't shudder under your menacing stare." But I can imagine how fast he would have boomeranged me back around, and all would have been for naught. No, I sat there biting my tongue and smiling, wondering why my feminine charm completely failed to impress him.

It wasn't hard to come to the realization that it was just him. I mean, nice people usually respond warmly when people are being nice to them. My best guess...it's been a long time since that guy has gotten any.

Anyway, enough about that. Just thinking about how long he had me there (literally about 10 minutes--the guy liked to lecture) gives me the heebie jeebies. Of course, he let me through--making me understand he was doing me a favor. Oh, and when he asked what I did for a living and I told him I was a writer, he asked me two more times. He then asked how I made my living, and I repeated that I write books for a living. He couldn't get it. I think I'll reserve my comment about who's the dense one!

Now, onto nicer things. Like the 22 hour drive with a three year old in the car. My brother and his family traveled with us, and they have 3 kids under 9. Needless to say, a long road trip with the kids isn't what we want to do again! From the endless "Are we there yets?" to the "I want to get out" (of the car seat) to the crying fits--well, you can imagine the joy. If I had a million dollars, I'd ditch my car here and hop a plane back home. Seriously. I can only hope that at the end of the trip, my little one is so tired out from all the fun that she'll sleep the entire car ride home.

You can stop laughing now. :-)

At least we arrived safely and can now let our hair down. Now's the time to drink some margaritas, hit the pool...

Now *I'm* the one who's laughing. Fun at the pool? Am I insane??? Maybe as long as I'm in a snowsuit, I can have some fun, because cold, hard reality hit me yesterday: I look better with my clothes on! Seriously, I put on my one piece, looked in the mirror, and nearly had heart failure. Maybe it's the mirror at the resort, but I swear, the cellulite reflected on my legs...Oh. My. God. Maybe I'm being hard on myself. Or maybe I've just discovered the reason I'm still single!

Okay, I'll stop whining. (But hey, what are Monday mornings for?) I don't have internet access at the hotel, which is almost as bad as having a border control officer glower at you for 10 minutes. Or the reality that my legs aren't sexy, and I can't exactly wear a scuba diving outfit in the pool (though imagine the weight I'd lose in this heat?).

I hope you all enjoy your week. I am determined to finally get to the "fun" part of my vacation, which I'm sure will start soon. Actually, it started when my daughter woke up in the car, and asked, "Is this Florida?" And when I said yes, she smiled.

Posted by at 2:47 PM | Comments (8)

Comments

Posted by: Alesia Holliday at May 8, 2006 3:27 PM

Posted by: Linda Sherwood at May 8, 2006 4:51 PM

Posted by: Eileen at May 8, 2006 4:55 PM

Posted by: Eileen at May 9, 2006 11:32 AM

Posted by: Michelle C at May 9, 2006 12:04 PM

Posted by: Sheri at May 10, 2006 8:32 AM

Posted by: Kayla at May 10, 2006 9:56 PM

Posted by: Kayla at May 10, 2006 9:57 PM