8/6/22 Unreal experience entering Canada

Backstory: Asked a couple of friends if they wanted to go camping. They replied they were going to Toronto to visit family. After my three-week road trip through California and the Pacific Northwest (PNW) I wanted to visit more national parks with them because it's been a few years since we met on a trip together. One mentioned they were going to Banff in Alberta during their trip. Since I was not able to visit Yellowstone on my way back on my previous trip I asked what dates they were there so I could visit Canada for the first time and swing through Yellowstone on the way back. I would take a week off and drive up there; two days to, three days there, and two on the way back +/- a couple of days for unexpected trip issues that seem to always arise when traveling.

Since I would be taking my Tesla, I found an ideal route through Wyoming and Upper Montana to reach Calgary and Banff. It would take me through the Coutts Border crossing which I found off the Canadian immigration website. I researched what identification I required as well as paperwork to bring for my dog, Mac. Moreover, I wanted to use my new car tent and US passport card that I got in 2015. All Mac required was his up-to-date rabies vaccine with documentation.

Canada requires an E-entry application with COVID information that is valid for 72 hours with a pre-indicated arrival time. I originally scheduled Monday around 3-5 PM but decided to stay in an RV park on the way because driving at night is dangerous and more grueling based on the trip I just returned from. Due to this, I arrived the next morning at 10 AM Tuesday. Red flag apparently.

As I drove up to the border agent window, I rolled down both driver-side front and rear windows so Mac could see out from the back while I interacted with the agent as well as giving him visibility into the vehicle. He greeted me and asked for my documentation. I handed him my paperwork and took notice of his large arms. Like, bruh works out. He was cute too. Mmmm

The agent asked the standard why are you traveling to Canada, where are you going, how long are you staying, where are you coming from, are you bringing any prohibited items like weapons or large sums of cash or drugs. I reply no but notice his eyes dart between his screen, my dog, and me. He seemed nervous so I simply stared ahead. In hindsight perhaps my prolonged eye contact checking him out made him suspicious. Well, now straight men get to experience being eye-fucked huh? How you like them apples? Additionally, I recently replaced my state ID/license with an updated photo so I might have not looked exactly like what he had on file from a decade ago or what I had on my passport identification. Instructors have also mistaken me for being younger than approaching 40. Thanks, Asian genes.

He returns my paperwork along with an additional rectangular yellow slip and said my vehicle would need to be inspected. I was fine with that since it was my first time coming to Canada, I was a foreign naturalized American citizen and understand why there would be more scrutiny. He instructed me to park around the left corner, go inside and give the slip to the customs agents and wait for my turn. I mentioned I cannot leave my dog in the car for too long since he has separation anxiety and will chew things but he reassured me I could wait outside with him after turning in my slip. Again, in hindsight, he probably thought this was a suspicious remark. I infer due to the fact drug smugglers have used pets as smuggling vehicles. Before pulling off he sheepishly grabs a box of dog biscuits and asks if my dog wants one while almost spilling a few treats and dropping the box to the ground. I hesitantly reply yes and dig one out for Mac and he gobbles it down vociferously.

As I walk inside I am greeted with a backlog of six to eight people seated near the door and was immediately overcome with dread assuming I had to wait in line before reaching the counter. I glanced left and a couple pointed out the open lane. I approached the two agents and handed them my slip, reiterating my dog can’t be left outside for too long by himself. One agent glanced out and asks what vehicle I was driving and immediately notices Mac staring intently with his head poked out. Mac does this every time I go inside a building and fortunately on this trip he has learned to stop screaming and howling like he’s getting murdered when I’m not within view. The agent repeats the question. “The Tesla with the dog in the window.” The other agent says to go outside and fetch my car keys. “I have my key right here” and flip through my Ridge wallet to hand him the key card which is used as a physical backup key. I always use my phone's Tesla app key and have not been in a situation where the physical key card was ever needed but keep it stowed in my wallet just in case. The same agent then asks what else I have on my body. “My phone and wallet” as I rub down both sides of my pant pockets.

I exit outside, leash Mac, and grab his bright orange knapsack that I use to carry around his dog gear: treats, poop bags, leash, foldable bowls, etc. One agent followed me and hastily orders me to return the bag immediately. I comply but “let me get the poop bags.” He points towards a garage across the parking lot and says there are poop bags on the right corner of the building within the indicated pet area. I comply and sit on the curb with Mac, understanding they need to preserve the integrity of the vehicle before the examination. Another red flag to them in retrospect.

While we wait, my gaze falls over the vast farm fields outside the border crossing. It occurs to me how easily one could walk between the two countries. I contemplate walking towards the fences to get a closer look, but it would attract unwanted suspicion and the border crossing was not a tourist attraction where I could explore freely, as I am wont on doing. I take Mac across the lot to the pet area that was adjacent to the garage. The garage had four large, corrugated metal gates that slide up with large numbers adorning the top. As we stand in the blistering morning sun, I decide to smoke a cigarette. At this moment a bulky clean-cut white guy with short black hair and a white t-shirt approaches me. Again being gay I’m a fan of the male aesthetic. He was about my height but bulkier.

He strides towards me and asks what type of dog Mac is. “Shar Pei with hound or retriever.” This is the most frequently asked question I encounter along with the comments of “your dog is huge” and “s/he is handsome/pretty.” I’ve started to get sick of the same questions and exclamations but can still usually mutter a thank you and smile. I offer him a cigarette which he declines, citing “I just had one.”

This guy freely discloses they’re searching his trailer inside the garage. He just got back from Vegas with his friends but didn’t mention he had more alcohol than disclosed. He looks and waits for me to reciprocate. “That doesn’t sound too bad. It might just be a fine or duty taxes. It’s worse in China.”

“You’ve been to China? What do you mean?”

“People often smuggle goods into China, especially items like electronics or expensive items they pretend are for themselves but are actually for resale to avoid import duties” I casually replied. Whoops, another red flag. I'm honest, straightforward, and hate small talk so I usually think of something amusing to gauge how interesting you are. But often Americans/Canadians require small talk to build rapport to the point of such intimate disclosures. sigh I mean, we could talk about the weather or sports but I don’t care for sports unless you mean e-sports and Overwatch.

“Why did you pick this crossing? There is a larger and faster one east of here for future reference.”

“Because this route has Tesla supercharging and is on the way to Banff. How long have you been waiting for your trailer?”

“About an hour. Your dog seems anxious.”

“My dog looks anxious?” I retort with a quizzical look on my face. He bids me farewell and walks around the garage and disappears. I think nothing of it but note he went inside the building, which if you’re a regular citizen, you’re unable to do so casually, especially given all four metal gates are currently closed. That’s when I realized he was a customs agent pretending to be a civilian to feel-out the veracity of my story and how nervous I was behaving. Also, the remark about Mac was a leading question meant to gauge how anxious I was. Ditto to the story about not reporting all goods.

As I stroll back towards the main building, I notice the large word RESTROOM and people walking in and out a side door on the right. There is a cigarette butt canister next to it and a large trash bin. I throw my butt away and out of curiosity investigate the trash bin, not much inside, some twigs and an empty snack bag, I noted. I wondered why there wasn’t a specific recycling receptacle ‘cause co-mingling trash is frowned upon these days. I’d expect the Canadian government to be a bastion of progressive eco-friendly norms. When I’m bored, I like to explore, often places and things most people would shy away from.

I plop down on the curb expecting this search to take longer than I expected. I initially thought it would take 15-30 minutes based on the people I observed; some are waved through if they have Alberta plates and a few older Americans with their tiny dogs go inside and cross rather quickly. I tie Mac to the parking curb guard rail and fiddle with my phone. Mac is rather anxious and does not handle people sneaking up behind well. He will bark and possibly lunge. The first guy who comes out is a portly older man with a big belly and large mustache. Mac barks at him as I swing my torso around to gaze at the gentleman. He makes a comment about how unfriendly Mac seems. “He doesn’t like people sneaking up on us but he’s friendly” and introduced them. I notice he has a badge and asked if he worked there. He nodded. “How long do these vehicle searches usually take? “One to three hours if they’re busy, but they’re definitely not busy today” and gives me a slight smile and nod as he walks towards the inspection garage. Oh good, I think to myself.

A few moments later a blond female customs agent emerges from the same exit and greets Mac and remarks on what a nice dog he is. I said he’s friendly after giving her a side glance and immediately flip my phone shut assuming she wanted something. This of course upon reconsideration would seem suspicious as if I was hiding something. No, I just didn't want you to see me messaging my ex. 🤦‍♂️ Out the side of my left eye I saw she went immediately back into the building. Expecting the wait time to be prolonged I remark “oh god can’t we just hurry this up” while holding my cheek up with one palm in exasperation and looking dejected. I wondered if they were watching me or if there were microphones located outside. Perhaps my body language could garner some sympathy.

Minutes later a janitor comes out, changed the trash bag, and approached me. I introduced Mac to him hoping to avoid another barking encounter. Behind him, a customs agent in full uniform lights up a cigarette after we exchange milliseconds of eye contact. I glance back at my phone not giving them any mind but quickly determine they are trying to see if I will flee. Police often set subtle entrapments like this to get the criminal to instigate probable cause for them to investigate further. By inundating the criminal with multiple casual and authority figures they are trying to put you on your heels. It's also highly unprofessional for a customs agent to smoke in front of a civilian as it erodes authority and respect. He doesn't even finish his cigarette before disappearing back into the building with the janitor since I didn’t react.

Taking these coincidences together, especially after four border personnel interacted with me in quick succession, I realize they are calculating the probability of me being a drug trafficker. Coincidentally I notice a white pickup with a kennel in the bed pull up in my line of sight (LOS) in front of the right side of the garage perpendicular to the gated entrances and obscuring the pet area. I wonder if they’re trying to prevent either Mac or me from pooping. A German Shepard gets out and darts around the truck and a customs agent puts on purple vinyl hospital gloves. The contrast of bright purple in the gray and yellow palette of the customs crossing is conspicuous. I’ve also used the same gloves working in the hospital and lab. I don’t think much of this observation until after the entire encounter, but they were trying to intimidate me and ratchet up the pressure. Another entrapment scenario is to get a criminal to start thinking there might be an invasive body search and drug-sniffing canine. These are supposed to appeal to the criminal’s fear and anxiety. I was completely oblivious to this while it happened. FYI You can opt for an x-ray if you don’t want to strip naked and get fingers up your butt by strangers.

Minutes later another female agent with dark hair exits the right main entrance, acting extremely affable, remarking what a good dog Mac is, and hands me my key card and paperwork and politely asks me to pull up to garage door number three. In my mind, I question why they asked for the key if they are giving me the key back now. The thought of taking my car and leading them on a wild chase crossed my mind but it also seemed like a terrible idea. If you didn’t know that’s called a peering into the void psychological thought. Is this another scenario for me to flee, or did they not know how to drive a Tesla and didn’t want the embarrassment of me coaching them as that would erode their authority over me? Mind you this contradicts preventing me from entering the vehicle to retrieve my dog bag by now allowing me to drive the car. Police often use multiple strategies, sometimes opposite extremes, to get criminals to ponder diverse plans of action, often to throw them off their intended strategies. This inundates the criminal with overstimulation, especially if they are guilty of something illegal, that keeps them unable to think rationally and thoughtfully.

I pull into the garage and step outside to face the customs agent. It is the same agent that received my card key. I remark Mac is anxious and if they bring in the drug dog it might startle him. He assures me I can take my dog out once I answer his questions and wait on the side. Another red flag to them is if I need to know when to expect the other dog. They ultimately didn't bring the drug dog out with warning. But seriously, my dog has anxiety. Mac’s Trazadone anxiety pills are in the center console of my vehicle. I’ve thought about trying them but I digress.

“Where are you going” “Banff, maybe Calgary” “How long will you be in Canada” “Three or four days” “Where are you driving from?” “Denver” “How long did it take you to drive here?” “Two days” “What are you doing here” “Meeting a couple friends I know from Denver who are visiting family in Canada” “How long have you known them?” “About ten years” “How long before did you make these plans?” “Two weeks ago” “Two weeks seems awfully short. Didn’t you say you were only in Canada for four days?” His facial expression shows he’s skeptical and thinks my trip will take a week but I told him four days. Seeing this I reply “well they probably had it planned for longer but I decided to come meet them with short notice.” “Where did you meet these friends?” A gay potluck but I didn’t want to tell him that. I hate these questions because they’re invasive and I don’t freely tell people I’m gay. “Do you own any firearms or guns?” “No” “Do you know anyone who does” “Yes” They’re forming their impressions of my baseline behaviors when telling the truth or lying.

I know they’re trying to increase the pressure on me as he becomes more aggressive in his questioning. The back-and-forth, along with incendiary comments, and trying to get me to confound my answers to notice any discrepancies in my story.

“Do you have any drugs or weapons in the car?” “No” “Have you done any drugs recently” “No” “I don’t care if you do different drugs you’re not in trouble here. Marijuana isn’t illegal here.” “I smoked some weed two weeks ago.”

“Have you or anyone you know done drugs inside or have been in the vehicle?” “No” I know he is asking questions to disqualify any potential positive drug swabs or canine reactions without drugs in the vehicle. I smoke weed occasionally and drink alcohol, nothing else.

“This is making me extremely uncomfortable.” I take a moment to collect myself, rub my sternum in a self-assuaging movement that he eyes intently, then take a couple of deep breaths to calm my nerves. I stretch out my hands so that they’re visible to the officer to show I am not a danger. He and I both see them slightly quivering. He might see this as an admission of guilt as the body language would indicate I’m ready to be cuffed per se. I do not know if I was anxious, nervous, irritated, or angry but probably a mixture of all four. I was not scared because I knew I was innocent. But I also didn’t want to be a minority that dies under mysterious circumstances in police custody, especially knowing they are trying to intimidate and increase my distress. I recall how three Aurora, Colorado police officers choked a black autistic teenager to death after stopping him for acting suspicious a couple of years ago. They even joked about how he acted after his death via text messages and were promptly fired. The city was sued out the ass.

At this moment when I am visibly agitated, he asks “Have you communicated with any drug organizations recently?” I gawk in disbelief the situation is escalating when I’m trying to diffuse it.

“DO YOU KNOW ANY DRUG DEALERS” while staring inches from my face. I recall my college crush who sold weed in college but remain silent.

I scowl at him. He said something else I don’t recall but I retorted “Don’t put words in my mouth I never said that.”

Suddenly a young golden retriever with a silver chain-linked leash and collar darts up to me and pounces on the car doors. Mac is taken aback but remains calm. His handler rushes forward and starts to profusely apologize, saying he was pooping around the corner and got away. This triggers me and I immediately fire back “That was not an accident and I know you think I’m a drug mule. So, search my car because I have nothing to hide. You are making me extremely agitated.”

“We are having a conversation and I am asking you standard questions. We’re talking.” I glare at him. “You can take your dog and wait in the waiting room over there while we perform the search.” I notice the waiting room separated by rectangular windows like at an emissions testing site. “There is also a frunk and trunk” “Frunk? What’s a frunk?” he asks gleefully. “A frunk, trunk, frunk is a front trunk and there is an under space in the trunk you can search.” The officer is amused and thought I was confusing my words and had his gotcha moment.

I grab Mac, leash him, and walk over to what appears to be the entrance of the waiting room. Let me point out the layout of the garage is like a maze. With all the tables, benches, parked truck and camper trailer there is one visible path to the door described and it just so happened to be in front of the truck on the opposite side of the entrance to the garage.

As I walk to the door I notice the initial guy I met outside sitting in the rear driver's side seat of the truck in front of the trailer with three other burly men. How did you magically appear in the car so conveniently during my search I wonder. One had a scruffy beard and looked hot! All the doors to the truck were ajar. A female officer was to my left. I grabbed the latch to the door and wiggled but it was locked. The initial guy in the back of the truck asked if everything was okay. I didn’t even bother to turn to look at him but blurted out “It’s fine, they just think I’m a perfect drug mule.” I scanned the waiting room and noticed the other door that was concealed from my inspection area by the truck trailer. The door was visible when I looked towards the entrance of the garage along the long side of the camper trailer. I heard the initial guy chuckle in amusement along with his friends from behind me as I stormed into the waiting area.

They were literally ready to grab me and thought they cornered me with the locked waiting room door and expected me to run. That pissed me off. You don’t need four burly men to subdue my 5’7” frame. I garner they felt I was a threat. Upon reconsideration why weren’t there more uniformed officers searching the truck and trailer camper if they were indeed regular citizens? How did they show up right when I was walking towards the waiting room area if they’ve been there an hour? Why did I only see the initial guy and not his three other friends if they were waiting for their trailer to be completed? Why were all four exit gates closed leaving the only route of egress the area I drove into?

I immediately sat down and leashed Mac to a chair and opened my phone to read the news. They weren’t letting me get away that easily. The dog trainer followed me inside and approached me.

“YOU WERE BEING VERY PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE OUTSIDE. I NEED TO KNOW WHY.”

“BECAUSE I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU THINK I AM AND YOU GUYS ARE ESCALATING THE SITUATION WITH ME AND MAKING ME FEEL VERY UNCOMFORTABLE. YOU CAN’T KEEP HYPING UP CITIZENS AND EXPECT THEM TO NOT GET AGITATED” as I slam one hand into the other repeatedly in a hammering motion to get my points across. This wasn’t even purposeful but body language is revealing when I replayed the scenario.

“What do you mean? We are doing our jobs.” “You think I’m smuggling drugs or something because you think I’m acting suspicious. I know about these tactics and the psychology behind them.” “What tactics?” His responses are so exaggerated it was somewhat strange. This isn’t a Julliard audition monologue. “We don’t have any tactics, we’re asking standard questions.” As he is speaking to me he glances away to the left and right while emoting so much that his teeth are readily visible in a snarl. I notice he has very nice, straight, white teeth. I mean, he is sorta hot too. Why am I attracted to muscular men with authority? I think I like the subconscious idea of a Western masculine male interacting with me with the same type of aggressive confidence I sometimes use to intimidate others with. That and/or the idea of someone setting boundaries and calling out my behavior that I lacked growing up. By this time the officer who accused me of knowing drug dealers also walks inside and observes me with flat affect. I note they both have forearm tattoos and wonder how tough they are.

“I have worked in psych and lockdown facilities and am familiar with the emotions and the psychology behind what you’re trying to do. I understand you have protocols and procedures and I seem suspicious to you.” “Why do you think you’re suspicious” “I’m foreign-born, this is my first time coming to Canada, you’re doing sneaky stuff to gauge me. I’m driving an expensive car.” I should have also mentioned my dog is super cute but scratching a lot out of anxiety or dander which you find suspicious. And they think he’s a tool for disarming customs agents and/or carrying drugs inside of him. This was also another leading question because criminals under duress often subtly self-incriminate by mentioning unwanted or irrelevant information during questioning as a way to deflect from scrutiny.

“What sneaky stuff have we done?” he asks, bemused. “You had multiple people gauge how anxious I was acting, you think smoking cigarettes means I’m nervous. You snuck your 6-month-old Golden Retriever drug dog on me and now you’re trying to de-escalate the situation. Plus the window agent was a nervous wreck.” “Teslas are a dime a dozen! My dog really did get away from me! We don't use German Shepards because people are scared and associate them with the police! We don’t do any sneaky stuff! Maybe the window agent was new! Those people have nothing to do with this.” Right, you hire amateurs for the window position that don't go through extensive training and shadowing. Cool story. By this time I’m less agitated and noticed they were trying to distract me as I see their forensics team of two or three uniformed agents swab over the rubber seal lining of my car doors in the background with chemical drug test kits in hand. You know, the type you dip into two vials and a visible color change indicates the presence of certain narcotics. Again, the purple gloves stick out like a sore thumb when everything else is a muted color.

“Ok, that’s fine” I didn’t see a point in arguing with them further because the dog trainer was gaslighting what I witnessed and experienced and telling me I was utterly wrong. My small Chinese mother is much more convincing at gaslighting and manipulation than you, sir. You can't feign ignorance without softening a little of that North American machismo; it's akin to trying to jam the star shape in the circle hole as two-year-olds figure out. It won't work.

Concurrently outside the waiting room and at the tables adjacent to where the truck and trailer were parked, the blond female customs agent puts away the confiscated shitty beer in sturdy see-through liquid-proof plastic bags. I notice Coors and Budweiser. The truck and camper are gone. Side note, people smuggle good alcohol, not two 24-can boxes of shitty watery 3.2% US college bro beer. But I suppose you can’t divert government funds to buy $500 dollar high-end whiskey as that wouldn’t pass a government audit check on Canadian customs expenditures. Plus what drug smuggler would notice this? They’d be too preoccupied to even have the thought. The intelligent drug peeps would be running the gig, not doing the grunt work. I bet they wonder if I’m scouting their tactics or picking up in Canada if I am clean.

This whole scene is an act. If I am guilty I was supposed to look towards the guys in the truck leaving, watching my chances of escape slowly dwindle as they drive off. Certainly after he asked if everything was okay because he wanted to help of course. I mean, we did build rapport over a heartfelt story outside didn’t we? And no one else has been as nice or as concerned. I didn’t. I didn’t even notice them leaving because I knew it was all a ruse and I didn’t need to escape anything because I’d done nothing illegal. How many of these traps are they going to set? Upon looking over the garage photos available on Google maps I wonder why there are four gates in front and only two in the back. I bet two are decoy gates. They asked me to back out later but the truck trailer camper is allowed to drive through the exit gate. The only car I noticed that did. My car was also the only car called to drive into the inspection area aside from an older couple later. Hum…

After allowing him to finish his explanation about them doing their jobs I retort back, “You guys are definitely doing something sneaky, and I know it.” The other officer is smiling at this point and crouched below me while I was seated, like how adults interact with children in the hospital setting; meet them at eye level to remain neutral or below to seem submissive. I mention they kept rehashing how anxious my dog was acting but the handler reassured me he saw me outside with Mac and he seems like a great dog. “Thank you, but now you’re playing good cop bad cop.” The dog handler seemed taken aback and incredulous I would make such an accusation.

I go on to say border agents are basically cops and this was an interrogation. The dog handler explains if he wanted to interrogate me he would and this was not an interrogation. His partner eyes me in silence with a faint smile.

Again, he explains they’re simply doing their jobs, repeating my dog is a nice dog. “We see people lie to us all day, they bring guns in from the US since you guys have so many weapons and we have none here. We have restrooms here and they sometimes go and flush the evidence down the toilet.” Being nice to me now and subtly complimenting I still haven’t used the restroom huh? I wonder where was he watching me when I was waiting on the curb with my dog as his truck hadn’t arrived yet, or at least I don't recall seeing him. That’s when I remembered why the janitor came out. He was changing the trash bag and the cop smoking behind him was a distraction to provoke me to flee and he observed the entire situation.

It’s incredibly interesting to see how these tactics can fulfill multiple psychological tricks. In this case, it was an intimidation factor, distraction, and observation to see what to do next, not including also being able to check the trash bag for narcotics.

THANK GOD I didn’t need to use the restroom during this entire customs border crossing. I had contemplated getting a coffee prior but realized how long these queues are usually and decided against it. If you visit a few developing countries you’ll realize how similar their customs process is to the US DMV experience. After replaying the situation later, I should have remarked why the dog that came up to me was not the German Shepard I saw leaving the truck. If you don't use German Shepards why did you let me see one get out of the truck kennel? Why did I see someone putting on purple gloves 30 minutes before my car was swabbed? Sneaky sneaky.

Researching afterward I read coffee and laxatives can be detected by the drug dog and is often an indicator of drug smuggling. I had neither in the car. I don’t need laxatives either. I eat enough spicy Chinese food to pre-plan my next day accordingly due to past fiascos involving urgently searching for a toilet.

A different officer who I saw swabbing my car now opens the waiting room door, “Can you open the glovebox?” “Yes, the pin is ******.” He repeats it back to me incorrectly as I grimace in frustration. He responds by asking me to do it. As I step out of the waiting room the two officers follow. The officer who asked for the glove box pin remarks, “I don’t know much about Teslas but I think the next supercharger is in Fort Macleod.” Fort Macleod, I think? I don’t know, I don’t remember the small towns in Canada, I just follow my GPS route. I think I recall something Macdonald’s sounding.

The dog handler disappears and the one who asked if I knew drug dealers now starts making small talk. “That’s a nice tent! It’s getting cold now in Banff at night. Is it new?” God, can we please not talk about the weather, that is the most mundane topic people discuss to build rapport. Now you think I’m picking up drugs if I’m clean passing through here. “Yes, I just got it and am trying it out but I've used it and this will be my third time!” I fold my fingers to show three. He probably thinks I'm full of shit and super rehearsed. “You can pack your things up and get ready to go.” “I hope you guys didn’t steal anything” as I turn and smile at him. He does not show any response. Tough crowd. I proceed to check everything is still inside. “Where are my tent keys?” He states they’re on the table behind me. I lock my tent and sling the keys back into the glove box. “I know you’re doing your job” as I reach to shake his hand. He shakes mine, warily, all the while staring and trying to process what type of mind games I’m playing.

As I reverse into the parking lot I’m filled with salt (irritation, resentment, anger) as he closes the number three gate. I park my car, open my door, stride up to the remaining open number four gate and turn to find him. At this point, an elderly caucasian couple is having their gold Toyota Camry sedan searched in the position the truck and camper half occupied previously. I point at him and remark, “If you’re not doing anything sneaky why did the drug dog only come out for my vehicle search? Why did everyone else get to go through customs so much faster without what I went through? You guys are doing sneaky shit!” He again denies they’re doing sneaky things but stares at me in disbelief that I'm still pressing the issue and confronting him again. I sense some discomfort in his body language that says this isn't over. After all, cops are human too, and can be caught off guard like criminals.

It did occur to me why they suddenly backed off and were super nice after the waiting room scenario. Things didn’t feel consistent and that is a hallmark of police trying to throw you off your norm. When you grow up in dysfunction you’re used to this type of emotional roller-coaster, also why I loved working in psych hospitals.

Often anger is the appropriate response to police interrogations if you’re accused of something you’re innocent of. If you’re guilty, then you will show other emotions. Was I taunting him? I’m not sure. Sometimes criminals taunt the police if they’re arrogant enough. I was pissed after the experience but know they’re doing their jobs. I don’t adhere to conventional norms. I like the idea of picking and choosing the best parts of American and Chinese culture to survive. It’s also a good way to read people if you have two sets of cultural norms to apply to their behaviors. A culture is simply societal rules that draw the boundaries of the game. It helps if you can see the lines of the paradigms; 2D vs 3D chess. Add on being gay and it's 4D. 🤣

As I drive off I noticed my map was reset and had to enter my destination again. Banff with charging in Fort Macleod and Canmore. Wait, how did that officer know about Fort Macleod when I didn’t even remember the name? They recorded my route from the car, obviously. I glance at my watch and realized this border crossing took two-plus hours. I had wanted to get dinner with my friends by 5 PM, but now it shows I will be there at 8 PM.

I drive to the next charging destination all the while aware and paranoid I’m being followed. There are multiple vehicles that tail me for 5-10 minutes and when they turn off another one gets behind me or one that had hazard lights I passed comes into view behind me. Suddenly my phone rings from a name I don’t recognize. Jose Sanchez? “What?! Are they pinging my phone to see my location now? WTF.” I answer the call just to prove I’m not doing anything illegal. The line clicks and disconnects. As I pull into Fort Macleod, I notice a cop writing a ticket with red and blue lights flickering parked outside the gas station I needed to charge at. Odd…is this another entrapment tactic to see if I’d run or change routes?

I park the Tesla behind the gas station at the supercharging stalls. They’re often located in the unused portions of gas stations and out of the way so other patrons won’t occupy the spaces. I use the restroom inside the gas station and buy a Pepsi. Mac and I wait in the car while I rehash the entire border crossing experience in my mind. Realizations flood my mind about what I could have done better or noticed sooner.

A large red SUV drives across the parking lot, stops near the trash behind the gas station/furnishing store's rear entrance for a few minutes and continues. At this point, I think anyone walking by is a cop, even the mom with her three kids. That's how paranoid this situation became. I relax as people go about their lives, utterly oblivious if there was a sting occurring. Minutes later a white pickup enters the parking lot. He parks rear end first into the opposite spot across the lot facing me. A man in a baseball cap. Hum, why is anyone parked back here if they’re not a Tesla? Could be a cop. But also, could be me being paranoid.

Within minutes three more trucks join him, all facing me. I couldn’t get a good look at any of their faces so I didn’t bother. I infer they’re probably waiting to see if there is a handoff and will intervene with excessive force if necessary. They can probably hear me talking too. I took a photo and texted people I know what was up in case there were any shenanigans. I assume they heard about me from Coutts if they didn’t tail me directly to see if I would shit or relieve myself on the side of the road or drop any narcotics out the window along the 70ish miles. I wonder if they’re the four guys who sat in the truck trailer camper with doors ajar.

I check my watch, 5 PM, I should feed Mac and let them know I’m not scared of them if they are cops. Keep to my routine I assure myself. “Mac are you hungry” as I look back. Mac wiggles excitedly and wags his tail. I get his bowls and set them down beside the car, filling one with dog food. “Are you thirsty?” I grab my water bottles and corrugated mug, both empty. After popping my trunk I fill both with the 10L water pouch I have in the back then fill Mac’s water bowl, keenly aware all four trucks are still there.

I squat down on a supercharger base and stare at them while Mac eats his dinner. I suddenly hear a police siren wailing and coming closer from behind. Mac is visibly startled but I continued to stare at them and glance at my phone. Reassured, Mac continues to chomp away. The police car with sirens ablaze passes behind me without incident, the four trucks immediately disperse, with the red one driving towards me and turning off onto the street. I bet they thought this was a handoff and now think feeding Mac was a sign the operation was canceled. Another trap I bet. I am even more paranoid after this occurrence and feel I’m still being tailed after leaving Macleod towards Calgary.

On the way to Calgary, I call Linda and recount this story in shorthand. I couldn’t be as detailed as this write-up but she seems concerned. “You know, maybe if you’re less confrontational the agents might have been easier on you.” “Yeah, maybe but I also don’t like being wrongfully accused and will stand up for myself.” Later she remarks I could also simply be paranoid. I know I get paranoid if I’m super drunk, or if I smoke weed with strangers, but I definitely don’t get this paranoid when I’m sober unless they’re doing sneaky shit that gets me paranoid.

As I get closer to Calgary my phone rings again. This time my phone shows suspected spam. Whatever, you can get phone logs of numbers I’ve received, you can also spoof phone numbers with whatever you want. The whole point is to simply contact the phone to ping its location and make sure it’s not off. I answer and again the line clicks and drops. It’s during this time I notice a white Tesla Model 3 merge onto the highway in front of me. He enters the highway and remains behind me in the middle lane. I’m using cruise control so not in a rush to get anywhere, plus I don’t want to give them any excuse to pull me over. The Model 3 tails me for a good 15 minutes, sometimes closer, sometimes further away, then suddenly disappears. I wonder why this vehicle never sped past me as every other Tesla driver that’s been stuck behind me driving like a grandma during my 3-week road trip would speed past me.

Super sus and makes me believe they thought I might have not known my dealers and the Tesla is supposed to be used as a signal to meet somewhere for an exchange. Nice car, implies affluence, probably doesn’t need to deal drugs is the rationale; good cover. At this point, the Pepsi is catching up to me and I need to urinate and take Mac out after his dinner. I’m too paranoid that stopping randomly while still being followed is wise nor did I see any visible gas stations that were directly off the highway.

As I turn left towards the road to Banff I stop at a desolate off-ramp and park on the side of the road with my hazards on. I look to see if there are any cars nearby. I push against the rear tire opposite the side facing traffic and piss on my wheel. It’s an easy way to pee if you ever have a roadside emergency on a highway because it obscures your entire body even if people see and know you’re whizzing. You can even get away with pooping if you drape a couple of towels, not that I have, but I like to imagine a lot of different scenarios for fun. I tend to overthink if you can’t tell by this write-up.

As I approach Banff, I get another call from Diana DiGette’s election campaign. I pick up only to be greeted with a recording and hang up. Ok, I get these occasionally. I got into Banff around 6:00 and headed to a supercharger. During this I called into a NAMI meeting I had scheduled for 6:30 on Zoom. An hour later I get another phone call from a random number but am unable to answer. I assume most if not all these calls were from the police pinging my phone and location to verify my plans because I usually get one or two phone calls a day if that, not six, especially while driving around in Canada after this border crossing incident. The discrepancy is noticeable and worth mentioning.

I expect them to keep pinging my phone every day I’m in Canada to keep tabs on my location. Turning off my phone or GPS during their pings adds more suspicion. I received one at 10:42 AM this morning 9/7/22 as I was sitting in downtown Banff having breakfast noodles. I swear I don’t get this many calls from unknown numbers on a daily basis. Even telemarketers for that, and there is a distinct chirp when connecting to an Indian scam center as well as the obvious accent.

I plan on retracing the exact route as they most likely have marked my vehicle as possibly picking up a shipment from Canada if the previous interventions were all unsuccessful. Going through a different crossing would be suspicious. Moreover, I want to prove simply because I fit a profile doesn’t mean they’re correct. Outlier scenarios attract attention so I can see if they thought this was a novel route strategy. Besides, calling out their behavior or suspicions doesn’t mean I’m self-incriminating. It’s all in an effort to be transparent to avoid any misunderstandings. Police body-cams are being pushed for a reason. I have read about and watched interrogation videos with police commentary, so I’m wise to some of the tactics. It’s different when you’re the subject of the aforementioned tactics. I’d compare it to reading a textbook and then having to perform the procedures, which I’m rather good at since I worked in a chemistry lab synthesizing molecules for two and a half years.

Let this letter serve as my testament to what I experienced to the best of my recollection. I will be publishing this online and sending it to friends in case I encounter issues crossing back into the US. Ignorance is bliss as the saying goes, as my friends said none of these thoughts would occur to them.

I had to look up passive-aggressive behavior because I certainly didn’t feel what I was doing was passive-aggressive. Apparently not answering questions directly or not answering a specific question is a hallmark of passive-aggressiveness. How is that any different than changing the subject or what my Chinese family and relatives do? Is it the legitimacy/seriousness of the situation? I guess Chinese people are passive-aggressive. My only encounters with it are backhanded compliments but the definition the agents meant reminds me certain of people, i.e. my immediate family, relatives, and people who share some of those traits. I simply thought the series of questioning was superfluous and the Canadian border agents were trying to lead me to say something I would regret later. i.e. throwing obstacles in my way and waiting until I tripped. I decided to stop participating.

This reads like a detective story, but it happened. It helps when I worked psych for 4 ½ years and had to document 15-20 patient behaviors, especially dramatic ones over the span of an entire work shift and then type up their reports, especially if they involved physical interventions. BTW we joke it’s called booty juice because you get restrained and shot in the ass muscle with a high-dose tranquilizer vets give to horses. Those scenes were especially memorable and I can replay those scenarios in my head like a movie. I think I’m pretty good at noticing how people behave and gauging their intentions with a flat affect, like what the agent did. *pats self on the back*

In the end, the agent who accused me of knowing drug dealers seemed slightly befuddled I was intelligent enough and saw through their shenanigans or the most authentic-acting falsely-accused drug mule he’s encountered. Aside: I am blunt and straightforward to a tee; some find it off-putting, intimidating, or even arrogant. Based on how they treated me, probably a bit of all three. I will be on guard returning. It was a fairly interesting experience and incredibly memorable. It’s ironic visiting Canada was the most hassle I’ve ever dealt with entering a country, especially given close ties and ease of access for most people. Traveling abroad always brings out the best of these experiences eh?

Edit:

Sept 11, 2022 12:37 PM US crossing at Piegan took two minutes. Thanks 'Murica! I ended up visiting Waterton on the Canadian side, Yellowstone, then the Tetons on the way back. I did camp in my car 10 miles out of Canmore, which is 10 miles south of Banff, in Grizzly bear territory with no reception. I was able to test Elon Musk’s Starlink satellite high-speed internet hookup. It was glorious getting 10 Mb/s download speeds and a ping of 95. I can probably game out here on my laptop too! But I did worry if they pinged me there it would be suspicious. Although it now makes me wonder if I should smuggle drugs.

I might do it if I was able to make a cool 5 million and retire but I doubt the drug organizations would be smart enough where I trusted them to that point nor would they take me in to do such an endeavor without the time and effort required to infiltrate those organizations. But hey Canadian or US border agencies, if you ever need a mild-mannered Chinese guy with ample street smarts to do so let me know! I tend to have a rather disarming demeanor based on my interactions with psych patients. Or even being a consultant and testing your facilities and giving feedback for improvement.

Sept 15, 2022 14:35 The Coutts border crossing superintendent called me to apologize for the experience after I filed a complaint and linked this post. I suggested cultural sensitivity training could be warranted, both gay and Chinese, as I could see others being intimidated or feeling entrapped under the same circumstance, let alone falsely confessing or saying something incriminating under duress. She said they “have no plain-clothes officers at the crossing” which I find suspicious as to why would you need to provide that information if you didn’t. Police are allowed to lie to you to catalyze self-disclosures. That certainly fits into the unwarranted superfluous information criminals provide when trying to conceal their actual motives. “I won’t give away your strategies.” I respect the need to catch criminals but I will also stand up for people doing nothing illegal who might be targeted wrongfully simply due to a confluence of coincidences.

I remarked it was weird my crossing took three hours. She was taken aback and said she’d talk with the officers involved. I suggested they can read over this post to see my perspective on the experience. I do not want anyone else to have to experience this because they might not have the skill-set to protect themselves. I added, “I had a great time in Banff and felt very safe and the people are hospitable. Please write a note on my file so when I come back to Canada I won’t be met with a similar experience. I am not a drug smuggler.”

Side note: Linda, my sister who is a 3rd-grade teacher, said she’d hate to have me as a student after she read over this write-up. “Why?” “Because you enjoy a challenge and confrontations which leads to power struggles. You are a teacher’s worst nightmare.” “Add in being manipulative as well.” “I’m glad you didn’t get hurt and it sounds like a big scare.” “I’ve been in sketchier situations.” :) I’ve also taught English and college chemistry so I know when to be a hardass and how to make students feel guilty. Thanks, Chinese upbringing.