There and Back.

Or my growing anxiety when crossing invisible lines.

It's no surprise that as a Canadian citizen I have some hesitations when heading below the 49th.

A vision of cowboy bars, right wing zealots, and rampant violence have been implanted in my head from a very young age. Television broadcasts and radio transmissions leaked across the border and into our homes instructing us on what was happening down south. Strange enough these aren't the things I fear.

What I'm afraid of is doing nothing, and being detained for it. The wrong word, a misplaced joke, or a poor attitude can have you on the wrong side of a latex glove.

Terror is a border crossing.

I've only ever been detained at the border once, and it was enough for me to not want it to happen again.

Our car was ripped apart, we repacked, and moved on after a thorough interrogation. That's the last time I travel with stoner musicians.

Every time since has been filled with caution and anxiety. Especially when heading south for work. That's when a fuck up could really make things difficult for me.

I just keep quiet, stay polite, and try not to let off how anxious I am.

It seems to be working out so far.