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Border guards trivia questions could jazz up crossings
© by Mike Keenan 
My new passport arrived at the door yesterday after waiting for almost a month, and let's face it, the allure of US shopping with powerful Canadian loonies was driving me mad if not loony. Once, the Celino and Barnes litigation ads splashed on billboards along the highway were worth the price of admission alone. Now, I have purchasing power.
You can't smile for passport pictures, not even a tiny smirk, so I was looking rather glum. Also, the picture had a decidedly dark finish, so not only did I look morose but also quite swarthy. I would not let me into a foreign country. Even if I had a puppy dog with me. I would take one look and immediately call the police. I've seen better looking guys on the FBI's "most wanted" posters. The moment you look at my passport picture, the words "hardened criminal" jump to mind. Passports are dumb. They (meaning the authorities) should make entry into a country far more difficult and spice things up at the same time. If we are going to sit there in long listless lineups, make the wait worthwhile. "Where were you born?" asks the customs official. "Toronto," I reply. "Name three mayors of Toronto and the year of the Grey Cup "Fog Bowl game" demands the customs official. Wow! Far more fun and challenging. With one wrong answer, you could choose a substitute question, but harder than the original. "I can only name two mayors," I might say. "I'll take the substitute question." "All right, name three people who really like Stephen Harper." That's really hard. Gees, after the Security Council fiasco, I'm not even sure about his wife and kids; however, this question and answer technique would inject more zest into the life of haggard customs officers. Can you imagine how boring their lives must be? Processing thousands of gloomy, swarthy types like me trying to get into the country? Asking the same repetitive questions: How long? Value of purchases? Blah, blah, blah. Far more exciting if the customs officer asked, "Okay, this is a theoretical question, but if you were hiding cigarettes and alcohol in this car, where would you conceal them?" This is known as a forced choice question. If you don't answer, you do not get across the bridge. If you do answer, you have to pay for all of those cigarettes and the booze that you are so cleverly hiding. Passports take all of the fun out of crossing the border. And how closely do customs officials check out each passport? Do you think they are going to read every foreign country stamp inserted inside your book? They have far better reading material in their kiosks. You would too; it's a boring job. The only keeners are the students hired for the summer. They get into it. They study body language to the tiniest detail. They are aware of precisely how close you park your car to the customs kiosk. The farther away means you have something to hide or that you recently ate garlic. The closer you park means you have nothing to hide or like many seniors, you are getting deaf in your left ear. If you place your forearm outside the car window on the ledge, it means that you are comfortable or unduly proud of the tattoo that embarrasses your spouse and family. If your arm is concealed inside the car, it means that you are anxious or forgot to clean your nails before you left home. Students pick up these body language clues and are terrifically keen for about a week. Can you imagine processing thousands of cars emitting foul-smelling carbon dioxide? That's why we should make border crossing more fun. The customs officers could ask questions that have stumped shrewd politicians, even astute Cabinet Ministers such as Stockwell Day, the ex-auctioneer. "In what direction does the Niagara River flow?" one might ask. "No Mr. Day, you cannot phone a friend. And really, do you like Mr. Harper?" |
