A friend of mine who got turned around on a different occasion was forced to buy a flight to Hawaii since it was the only flight back to the US that night. The other option (if no flights back to the US are available) is to spend the night in a local holding tank. It is a humiliating and frustrating experience, costly and nonsensical.
The primary sticking point for Canadian customs officials is a 2001 misdemeanor conviction for possession of marijuana, for which I served three years probation. I was sentenced in 2002 and finished up my term in '05. Even if you think that offense is worthy of being denied admission into a foreign country as a tourist, the way this played out should offend anyone's sense of logic, because the same exact issue came up on my last visit in early August with the exact opposite result.
At that time (in August, crossing over by car via the "Peace Arch"), I was told I was being allowed in despite my criminal record, because I had, in Canada's eyes, paid my debt to society and been rehabilitated. They said 10 years had passed since the conviction, that was the threshold. "We're gonna let you and your wife in today, despite the old charge," the female customs agent said.
This wasn't the case according to the guys I was dealing with yesterday--no, now, I was being told by the border agent, a young man of Pakistani descent, that I would not be redeemed for my crimes in the eyes of Canada until 10 years had elapsed from the time my probation ended.
When I flew into the same airport, and stood in that exact room for a secondary screening in 2011, the issue of my 2001 arrest didn't even come up! The inconsistency blows my mind.
The man gave me two options: speak to a judge and appeal this decision, or leave and try to come back in 2015! I asked to speak to a judge to appeal, which became clear wasn't really an option--more like a theoretical option--so I settled for a supervisor. Neither the supervisor nor the first agent could explain why I was let into the country twice before. They basically admitted that border agents have some amount of arbitrary discretion, which I interpret as: if they don't like the cut of your jib, they can find a reason to keep you out.
They were really telling me over and over, "We can't account for why you were let in twice in the last two years, but, yeah, come back in 2015."
It was like they were committed to their decision but didn't really understand their own motivation or rationale. By the time this discussion was taking place, the die had already been cast, and talking to the supervisor only served as a means to express the frustration I was feeling over the farcical nature of their decision.
The agents acknowledged that I was calm and respectful towards them, so they were happy to answer my questions, just not let me into the country. They recognized that I was simply trying to be a good, money-spending tourist. They knew I had dinner plans with friends in the city that night, and they knew I had paid for my two-week vacation rental up front. And they still told me to go fuck myself until 2015.
***
Meanwhile, the border agent was clearly interested in poker, peppering me with questions about being a professional poker player--asking me stupid shit like, "Can you make money playing online? How do you do that without being able to see people's faces?" Tells me he sees a lot of guys coming into Canada to play now that it was banned in the USA.
He asked me about my arrest. By "asked me," I mean he introduced a series of questions and statements designed for self-incrimination. So, I explained the general circumstances of the arrest to the agent--that I was unlucky enough to be hanging out with a friend on the Upper West Side of Manhattan on the day the police were wrapping up a month-long investigation on him over marijuana.
I pointed out the length of the investigation, the skill of the investigators, and highlighted its propinquity to the WTC massacre (I was arrested on 7/11/01). The customs agent had the nerve to say, "They didn't have anything better to investigate?"
Meanwhile this agent had to spend 2.5 hours looking over my case, searching my bags, then escorting me to the ticket counter (he was nice enough to accompany me outside for a much-needed cigarette first), then to the US Customs station, and finally to the gate, where he had to hang around while I waited to board my new one-way flight home. Didn't he have better things to investigate?
***
There is no moral to the story. I wish there was solace in indignation, but I find no comfort saying "Fuck Canada, I'm never going back."
Mark Twain's concept of "loyalty to the country always, loyalty to the government when it deserves it" sort of applies here. I was going to Canada because I love Salt Spring Island and wanted to spend two more weeks there finishing out WCOOP. So who wins if I let one agency of the Canadian government kill the good vibe I felt towards the landscape and people of Canada?
I also know that some of my Canadian counterparts, especially professional gamblers, face similar hassles when they cross down into the USA, and it's equally frustrating and ludicrous.
I would have thought that spending three weeks in Canada recently would have cemented my relationship with Canada as a welcomed tourist. Rather, this whole dynamic--also considering that we dropped a five-figure sum into the tourist economy last month, and I had plans to drop another four-figures in the coming two weeks--is so irrational, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
I would call it a Pyrrhic Victory--because no one wins--but I can't even understand why or how the battle is being fought in the first place.
Meanwhile this agent had to spend 2.5 hours looking over my case, searching my bags, then escorting me to the ticket counter (he was nice enough to accompany me outside for a much-needed cigarette first), then to the US Customs station, and finally to the gate, where he had to hang around while I waited to board my new one-way flight home. Didn't he have better things to investigate?
***
There is no moral to the story. I wish there was solace in indignation, but I find no comfort saying "Fuck Canada, I'm never going back."
Mark Twain's concept of "loyalty to the country always, loyalty to the government when it deserves it" sort of applies here. I was going to Canada because I love Salt Spring Island and wanted to spend two more weeks there finishing out WCOOP. So who wins if I let one agency of the Canadian government kill the good vibe I felt towards the landscape and people of Canada?
I also know that some of my Canadian counterparts, especially professional gamblers, face similar hassles when they cross down into the USA, and it's equally frustrating and ludicrous.
I would have thought that spending three weeks in Canada recently would have cemented my relationship with Canada as a welcomed tourist. Rather, this whole dynamic--also considering that we dropped a five-figure sum into the tourist economy last month, and I had plans to drop another four-figures in the coming two weeks--is so irrational, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth.
I would call it a Pyrrhic Victory--because no one wins--but I can't even understand why or how the battle is being fought in the first place.