No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

My good friend WereGirl is, if nothing else, an excellent source of blog fodder. You see, WereGirl does not have good luck. WereGirl has phenomenally bad luck, luck that you really can't understand without spending time with her. There's an ancient Chinese curse that states "May you live in interesting times." I'm not sure exactly how WereGirl managed to piss off the ancient Chinese, but this curse fits her life to a T. The last couple of stories prominently feature her, and this one will too. For most people, myself included, these events would be exceptional. But they're just par for the course (or, perhaps curse) for her.

Our latest story starts when WereGirl's boyfriend boyfriend, PilotBoy, had to go to a funeral in central Michigan. What would have been the last snow of the year had been forecast and because the Family Truckster does not handle well in the snow, WereGirl had insisted that they trade cars for a couple days and so he could take her car north. It didn't actually end up snowing, but it was a nice, caring thing for her to have done. Unfortunately in, especially for WereGirl, no good deed goes unpunished.

I enter the story once again hanging out at WereGirl's house. She told me that an employee of her mother's had had car problems and needed a lift home, across the river in Detroit. Being the good person that she is, WereGirl had agreed to take her across in the Family Truckster. In hindsight we should have taken my car, but WereGirl is a silly girl and felt that asking ne would be an imposition. It really wouldn't have been, except for the fact that the Family Truckster is far more comfortable for three people, but like I said, she's silly. This was another good deed. So, now she was really due some punishment.

I knew that she wouldn't want to be driving in Detroit after dark, so when she asked if I'd tag along, it wasn't really a surprise. So, we headed off to her mom's store picked up our charge, and then to the border.

American Border guards almost always like to know who you are and exactly why you'd like to enter their fair country. It took a while for WereGirl to explain that we were driving her boyfriend's car, and that no, that wasn't me. Two of us were Canadians, one of us was an American. I volunteered that I was coming across to keep WereGirl company on the way back "since Detroit doesn't have the best reputation" (this elicited a bit of a scowl). Eventually we were deemed worthy and granted access to the United States.

The actual drop off went without a hitch, though I swear that Bosnia has better roads than Detroit. One in particular was a series of potholes separated by speed bumbs. We got slightly lost but eventually found our way back to the border where the real fun began.

I've never had much of a problem with Canada Customs. When SouthernKitten and I were dating I crossed every couple of weeks and the most thorough interrogation I received was when an agent asked "Are you sure?" after I'd said I had nothing to declare. The longest I'd ever spent at customs was after my last visit to Kentucky, just before the day before the US election. The guard was bored and wanted to talk US politics for a while.

This time was different. The woman in the booth noted that the Family Truckster had Michigan plates, and since neither WereGirl or I were US residents, she said that we were not entitled to bring it into Canada and would have to pull into the inspection area to discuss it.

Once there, we were approached by a pair of customs agents, a veteran officer and a young one. The veteran did most of the talking. WereGirl wanted to have her mother (who is a US citizen) meet us and drive the car into Canada. However, since WereGirl had admitted that her mother was a resident of Windsor, this wasn't going to fly. Her next idea was for her mother's boyfriend (also a US citizen, but one she had not admitted to be a resident of Windsor) do the same thing. Again this did not fly. The agents were concerned that we'd just cross the border, then she'd resume driving. The agents wanted the Family Truckster out of the country and back in Michigan.

At this juncture WereGirl and the customs agents both felt the issue had been resolved, though both had completely different ideas about just what this resolution was. The agents said they'd open the gate to let us out and send us on our way. The gate led back into the tunnel and ultimately back into Michigan. WereGirl had somehow gotten the impression that the gate led to the impound yard and that customs would be keeping the Family Truckster until PilotBoy could come and pick it up. The agents instructed us to wait and told they'd be back.

The younger agent came back with a piece of paper that would allow us back across without paying a second toll. Suddenly WereGirl understood what they wanted and took this opportunity to re-open negotiations. She basically offered the same solution, but the younger, more inexperienced agent fell for it, er, I mean, agreed.

WereGirl called her mom at home and her mom and her mom's boyfriend headed to the border to meet us.

A couple of minutes later a very chagrined younger agent re-approached the car. The older agent had apparently vetoed the idea and chewed him out a little. We'd have to figure something else out and the car could not proceed into Canada.

We spent some time trying to come up with a plan. Then another customs officer, this one female, approached the car and knocked on the window. WereGirl rolled it down.

"You have to leave." said the officer.

"But we're waiting for my mom and-" Weregirl started to reply. Her mom was on her way there and would be rather confused if we weren't there once she arrived.

"She can't drive the car. This has been explained to you, you have to leave" interrupted a rather bitchy customs officer.

"I know, but she's on her way and-"

"This is a Saturday night and we're busy, this is not a parking lot and you have to go." Officer McBitchy interrupted again.

At that moment WereGirl's mom's boyfriend strode into view. Apparently her mom was waiting inside. I headed inside to let her know what was happening and let everyone else sort out what was going to happen.

I found WereGirl's mom and we chatted idly about WereGirl's luck for a few minutes while a new plan was formulated. Eventually WereGirl joined us and filled us in on the new plan.

Her mom's boyfriend would drive the Family Truckster back into the US. WereGirl's mom would take us back into the US where we would meet him, then they would go back home to Windsor and WereGirl and I would take the Family Truckster back to PilotBoy's house where we would meet him when he returned the next morning.

Because of our rather complicated story and reason for going back into the States this time, WereGirl's mom decided that we should just tell the US customs officer a little white lie about our reasons for crossing. It would just be so much easier to tell the little white lie and get across than to re-tell the whole story. When we pulled up to the booth at the border, however, we recognized the guard as the same one we'd seen on our way across an hour or so before. Now, I'm sure that border guards see hundreds, if not thousands of people a day and probably remember almost none of them. But WereGirl is an attractive girl, my last name is pretty distinct and I'd insulted what may well have been his home town. If he was going to remember anyone, it seemed pretty reasonable that he'd remember us.

"Why do you want to enter the US today?" the guard asked.

WereGirl's mom opened her mouth, set to tell the lie.

"Well..." WereGirl interupted, just in time.

Asside from a whole lot of ranting on WereGirl's part, the rest of the trip to PilotBoy's house went smoothly.

In the end what had been intended to be a 20 minute hop across the border turned into an ordeal of several hours and an overnight trip.

Just another day in the life of WereGirl.