Land of the free? Hardly.

I don't often get into political rantings here, mainly because I've gotten to a point where I'm pretty apathetic about most issues. Either that, or I just don't feel like dealing with the argument.

There is one issue, however, that really puts my knickers in a knot, and that's the issue of Homeland Security. It's always bothered me because it's just so subjective, and full of blurry lines and double standards...but it didn't REALLY start to annoy me until I moved back to a border city.

I'm not unsympathetic to the cause. I understand that we're trying to keep our nation safe. I understand and was profoundly affected by the devastation of 9/11. I get it.

Immediately following the attacks, the country was thrust into upheaval, and mass paranoia set in. People were buying plastic wrap and duct tape to cover their houses, and boycotting every last convenience store because they were supposedly underground funding coffers for terrorist organizations. If you were any color but white, you were essentially fucked. God help you if you wore a turban or a burqa or attended services at a non-Christian church.

Fast forward nine years, and where are we? There's still an overwhelming sense of paranoia and mistrust...and it's a MAJOR hassle to get anywhere. Flown anywhere recently? Domestic flights are just as bad as international ones (if not worse - ask my Indian-born brother-in-law). That's another post for another time, though. What I'm talking about here is border crossings for U.S. citizens who are trying to come home.

I live in Buffalo, NY. At certain points along the Niagara River, you could throw a rock from this side and hit Canadian soil. For years, Buffalonians and Canadians enjoyed a co-presence that involved crossing the border at any old time to do any old thing like shopping or sight-seeing or having dinner or riding rollercoasters, or less wholesome activities like gambling or drinking (the legal age is 19 in Canada) or attending the "Canadian Ballet" (a colloquialism for the strip clubs in which full nudity is legal). Prostitution is also legal in Canada, so...you know. Lots of reasons Americans might want to go up there. My point is that when I'm done shopping at Ikea or eating at Happy Jacks or showing an out-of-town friend around Niagara Falls or enjoying a lap dance at Mints (just kidding), I want to come home.

Home is Buffalo, New York, United States of America. It says so on my driver's license. I have a United States passport. My car is registered to me, in New York State, and the title is in my name. It's insured in New York State. I have a job in New York State. I was BORN in Buffalo. Should be a piece of cake to return home after some time spent in Canadaland, no?

No.

When you cross into Canada, this is the conversation that takes place with the friendly border patrol agent:

Border agent: Country of citizenship?
Me: USA

BA: Where are you headed today?
Me: The Butterfly Conservatory and a couple of wineries, maybe the Horticulture School and dinner at the casino if there's time.

BA: How long do you plan on being in Canada?
Me: Probably a good 6 or 8 hours, I would imagine.

BA: Are you bringing anything in?
Me: Just my personal effects and some spending cash.

BA: Okay, have a nice time.

Sometimes they'll ask if you're meeting anyone, but usually it's more or less, "Welcome to Canada, enjoy our lovely, clean country. We trust you won't fuck anything up here, eh?"

Coming back...a completely different story. You will be asked your country of citizenship, where you were, how long you were there, who you were with, what you did, and what you're bringing back. You will then be asked what you do for a living, who your employer is, where you were born, who owns your car, and you may be asked to recite your license plate number. This will all be asked with a suspicious scowl and an attitude like you're ruining the agent's day simply by existing. And no matter how cooperative you are, if he has a headache or was just dumped by his girlfriend, you are screwed, and you'd better hope you don't have any place to be that day because your ass is theirs now. You will be asked to pull over. Your car will be searched, and you will be subjected to an outright interrogation. I've only ever had the experience of having my trunk searched, but I've had friends and family members go through much worse.

This was my friend Megan's status update this morning:

We were pulled over for a random inspection returning to the US at 7am today. Had to drag sleeping child out of car so they could ask us a series of basic questions and rifle through our belongings.

What's so disturbing about this? Well, let's start with Megan. She is 41, a former political and economic relations officer for the Canadian Consulate who is now the Director of Government Relations for SUNY Buffalo. Her husband Brian, 43, is employed by the Canadian Consulate. They have a two-year-old daughter, are homeowners in Buffalo, and are both natives of this area.

Do you see where I'm going with this? Here it is, folks:

I'm sorry, but you know, I am having a harder and harder time living in a nation (and a developed one, at that) that makes it such a freakin' hassle for its citizens to COME HOME. Yeah, I understand that the best terrorists are probably indeed cleverly disguised as 40-ish Caucasian professional couples (WHO WORK IN GOVERNMENT AND IMMIGRATION) with napping toddlers in the back seat, but come ON! You live here, you're documented to the teeth, and you're squeaky clean. What more do they need?!

This will probably put me on some terrorist watch list, but you know what? I don't give a shit anymore. I'm so tired of our resources being wasted on ridiculous shit like hassles and random searches of U.S. citizens trying to return home. It's kind of hard to love a place that wants to keep you out in the interest of keeping it "safe." I could go on for DAYS about everything that's messed up here, but Megan's experience just boiled my American red blood. Maybe I'll just move to Canada.