(U.S Embassy and Consultants in Canada/Flickr)
December 22nd, 2023. A day that will live in infamy, for that was the day me and my friend crossed the U.S. border by accident. Was it fun? In retrospect, yes. But in the moment, being taken for questioning at Peace Arch crossing was borderline terrifying (get it?). This is our story.
Part 1: The Peace Arch
Ok, first things first, let’s establish some background details. Peace Arch. What’s that? Well, it’s the busiest border crossing in western Canada. Opened in 1891, it’s one of Metro Vancouver’s 4 land-based crossings into the United States (the others being Aldergrove, Pacific, and Point Roberts), providing a direct route between Vancouver and it’s southern sibling, Seattle. Located beside the crossing is Peace Arch Park, a space that is shared between Blaine, WA and Surrey. It’s an international gathering place where Canadians and Americans are allowed to be together without need for a passport. Keep that last part in mind.
Part 2: An Idiotic Idea, 12:00pm
Jumping forward to that faithful December day, me and my friend Oscar decided to visit Peace Arch Park for the day. Despite living only 15 minutes away, we’d never been, so we weren’t exactly sure what was in store. We parked in a lot behind the Canadian Duty-Free store, and for an hour, there was peace. We explored the area, took pictures with the Arch itself, and slipped down a hill on a patch of mud. We made our way back to the car, passing the Duty-Free as we walked. Then, I had perhaps the stupidest idea of my life: “Let’s go to the Duty-Free!”. As most normal people know, Duty-Frees are meant to entice border crossers to purchase items to skip the line. I knew this, but I couldn’t resist the temptation. So we got in my car, and moved it from a lot right beside the store, to the actual Duty-Free lot. As soon as we passed through it’s gates, I noticed something under my tire. The entire facility was surrounded by spike traps. There was no way out but through the border.
Part 3: Calamity Builds, 2:00pm
Since we never planned on crossing the border, neither myself nor Oscar had passports, and to make things just a little bit worse, Oscar left his wallet in his sister’s car. He was essentially unidentifiable. We begged the Duty Free workers to lower the traps, to no avail. So we got in my car, and drove. The wait to reach the actual crossing was terrifyingly tense. Were we going to get off ok, or were we going to be in a jail cell just in time for Christmas? Eventually, we reached the guard. “What’s the purpose of your visit?” he said. I explained our predicament, and unsurprisingly, he wasn’t having it. “Secondary!” he shouted, and with that, we were parked and sent to the Customs & Immigrations Office of the United States.
Part 4: Crescendo, 5:00pm
The wait was arduous. 3 hours squished in a line with hundreds of new immigrants and those flagged for suspicious behavior. There was no music, just the chatter of scared travelers. Worst of all, Wi-Fi was non-existent, and since we were now in the U.S., neither of our data plans were of use, so contacting the outside world was damn near impossible. The hours went by as fast as paint dries, but eventually, we were summoned to plead our case. We walked to the counter, where a burly, muscular officer was sat. We told him everything, how it was all a mistake and how we didn’t actually want to go to the States anyways. Apparently, he read that as 2 smugglers getting cold feet at the last minute, so he berated us. Hard. We were speechless, usually you’re allowed to clap back at someone who calls you an idiot, but not this time. He left us to concur with other officers on weather or not we would be set free, or be thrown in jail. Meanwhile, my car was being searched outside, and of course I had to have a bunch of suspicious objects in it that day (Such as a gutter cleaner for my dad’s Christmas gift, which looked like a large metal axe, and a box of old rotary phones I’d gotten for free from the high school dumpster). We were officially screwed.
Part 5: Born to Run, 7:00pm
The guard returned after about 20 minutes. We were ready for our punishment. “I better not see you here again. Got it?” he demanded. We were free men. We hopped in my car, and were ushered into Blaine to turn around and head for the Canadian border. If we were indeed smugglers, we probably could’ve just driven right down the interstate and made Seattle by midnight, but we were just two kids that wanted to get home. The Canadian crossing was a breeze, as even without any identification, they found Oscar’s records within seconds, something that the Americans were obviously incapable of. As soon as my front tires passed the 49th parallel, we sped off into the sunset, windows down and stereo boosted. Springsteen’s “Born to Run” began to play, a cinematic ending for the most interesting day of our lives.
“What’s the point of this story?” I hear you say. Well, it’s quite simple: Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.