Just in from Howard

... Whitehouse, that is.

I've been dealing with the fine upstanding individuals that examine passports of people entering the US for more than 25 years. A significant number of them are idiots.

Yesterday Lori was at the wheel when we crossed from Ontario into the States at Lewiston. We'd been in Toronto for a week of me shamelessly huckstering my book and Lori starting on her rather more academically challenging book.

It's a young guard - sorry, official - in a snazzy woolly hat for the Buffalo area winter that apparently starts mid October.

Guard: "What are your nationalities?"

Lori: "I'm American, my husband is British."

Guard: "Does he speak English?"

Myself: "Quite a bit, actually." I am trying not to laugh. They don't like it when you laugh.

Lori: "Ah, Britain is where English comes from." Her generally very competent straight face is slipping.

I foresee the car being dismantled by minions of Homeland Security, possibly while a busload of terrorists marked 'Ottawa Al-Qaida' gets a cursory look over as elite specialists take apart my dirty washing, a big bag of old RAFM gaming figures and about $300 in used books (Canada's the place to buy second hand books)

Guard (possibly realizing his stupidity): "I have to hear him talk for himself!"

Myself: "Quite correct officer!" I almost salute.

We pass into New York, Lori grumbling, myself wishing I'd been smuggling in some Cuban cigars - the ones you can't bring in legally, and are thus sold from kiosks a half mile inside Canada, doubtless for the American who wants to smoke ten of them before he reaches the border. I don't smoke, but I shoulda done it anyway. H

Don't you feel secure now? Sleep well in your beds, tonight, America!



See you at Fall In, Howard.