Border Assholes
The Friday after my backpacking trip ended up being a gorgeous day, which I should probably be upset over since that meant had I stayed on the trail, it might have been okay. I don’t know if I felt bad about cutting out early, especially looking at the soggy mess when I tried to clean all the muddy gear in the morning. I didn’t think I would have enough time to sufficiently dry out everything and be in good shape. Regardless, my sister called me up and asked if I wanted to go Vancouver with her to pick up some stuff for her bar, so we drove up Friday night to party and ate tons of wonderful food and went shopping for stuff on Saturday.
We went to this nice club in downtown Vancouver which was playing the best RB/Hiphop mix I had heard in a very damned long time. Soon as we hit the bar, a guy came up to me and asked if he could rub my head for good luck. I told him, “No, I don’t know where that hand has been.” He started apologizing over and over for being rude and asked to buy me a drink. I told him he didn’t have to but, he did.
Toward the end of the night, some random drunk guy came up to me and rubbed my head…WTF? Then when my sister and I were dancing next to this table, one guy said, “Wow, I love your hair. Can I buy you ladies a drink?” Hmmm…note to self, if I’m ever too broke to afford my own drinks, just shave my hair. My sister and I had an awesome time at the club, drinking and dancing.
The next morning, we went out for some dimsum, for those that don’t know, Vancouver has some of the best Chinese food because of their huge Hong Kong population. Back before 1997, a lot of the rich Hong Kong people freaked out when the place was being handed over from England back to China, so those that could afford it, immigrated the hell out…mostly to Canada.
While we were having dimsum, some of the ladies pushing the pastries carts around would come by and they would stare dumbly at my head. A girl with shaved head confuses them…I think they probably think I’m a Buddhist monk…except I’m ordering meat dishes. So they naturally assumed I’m just not Chinese, because no decent Chinese girl would shave their head. They kept speaking broken English to us despite the fact that I speak perfectly good Chinese. It’s like they are culturally disowning me.
We went shopping afterwards at this huge Chinese mall where everyone bore holes in the back of my head from their very intense stares. EVERYONE. Even my sister commented, “Oh my god, they can’t seem to stop staring, they don’t even care if you see them staring.”
Still, it was a great trip with good food…right until the end. The border patrol decided to stop us because my sister was driving a very pimped out loaner Cadillac Escalade (loaner because her Escalade is still in the shop). Not only did they search the car inside out, when the guy came back in after finding nothing he searched our purses. They weren’t going to find a damned thing, we were so clean we squeaked. Both of us could pass a blood and urine test at that point. Okay, I understand the border patrols are doing a good thing by keeping our borders safe, but this guy was a nit-wit ass-wipe. I didn’t care that he searched my purse; I didn’t carry a lot of crap in there. He actually took every article out and asked about each of them. Like my cellphone, he opened it…saw my camera phone picture, and asked who the snowboarder was. “That would be my lesbian girlfriend with long hair, dickhead.” Of course I told him it was me. Then he said some retarded shit like, “You think snowboarding is fun because it’s dangerous?” WTF? Yeah, I like living dangerously, does that mean I have a kilo of heroin in the car? Then the shithead took out my camera and turned it to see if I have pictures in them. What the hell? Was he hoping for pictures I had posing next to the world’s tallest cannibis plant? The memory card was empty, but what if I took personal pictures with them? I was beginning to feel very violated.
Then the stupid idiot pulled out my oil-blotting paper and asked, “What’s this? This is rolling paper.” He seemed so fucking pleased with himself to have found incriminating evidence. I told him, “No, those are oil blotting paper, it’s make-up on paper by Shiseido.” He pulled out a sheet, like he intended to send it to the lab or something. I told him, “Look at it, one side has powder on it.” He insisted it looked like rolling paper. My sister commented, “We don’t smoke, I don’t understand why people would roll cigarettes when you can buy them all packed anyhow.” He said he thinks they’re being used to roll joints. We tell him to ask one of the ladies, they’ll know what blotting paper is. He asks…the lady he asked didn’t know about this blotting paper, but she told him flat out that’s definitely NOT rolling paper. Fucktard! He sniffs it and said, “Yeah, it doesn’t smell like it.” Then packs my stuff back and hands my bag to me. I have very low opinion of border patrols now. Fucking asshole!
We went to this nice club in downtown Vancouver which was playing the best RB/Hiphop mix I had heard in a very damned long time. Soon as we hit the bar, a guy came up to me and asked if he could rub my head for good luck. I told him, “No, I don’t know where that hand has been.” He started apologizing over and over for being rude and asked to buy me a drink. I told him he didn’t have to but, he did.
Toward the end of the night, some random drunk guy came up to me and rubbed my head…WTF? Then when my sister and I were dancing next to this table, one guy said, “Wow, I love your hair. Can I buy you ladies a drink?” Hmmm…note to self, if I’m ever too broke to afford my own drinks, just shave my hair. My sister and I had an awesome time at the club, drinking and dancing.
The next morning, we went out for some dimsum, for those that don’t know, Vancouver has some of the best Chinese food because of their huge Hong Kong population. Back before 1997, a lot of the rich Hong Kong people freaked out when the place was being handed over from England back to China, so those that could afford it, immigrated the hell out…mostly to Canada.
While we were having dimsum, some of the ladies pushing the pastries carts around would come by and they would stare dumbly at my head. A girl with shaved head confuses them…I think they probably think I’m a Buddhist monk…except I’m ordering meat dishes. So they naturally assumed I’m just not Chinese, because no decent Chinese girl would shave their head. They kept speaking broken English to us despite the fact that I speak perfectly good Chinese. It’s like they are culturally disowning me.
We went shopping afterwards at this huge Chinese mall where everyone bore holes in the back of my head from their very intense stares. EVERYONE. Even my sister commented, “Oh my god, they can’t seem to stop staring, they don’t even care if you see them staring.”
Still, it was a great trip with good food…right until the end. The border patrol decided to stop us because my sister was driving a very pimped out loaner Cadillac Escalade (loaner because her Escalade is still in the shop). Not only did they search the car inside out, when the guy came back in after finding nothing he searched our purses. They weren’t going to find a damned thing, we were so clean we squeaked. Both of us could pass a blood and urine test at that point. Okay, I understand the border patrols are doing a good thing by keeping our borders safe, but this guy was a nit-wit ass-wipe. I didn’t care that he searched my purse; I didn’t carry a lot of crap in there. He actually took every article out and asked about each of them. Like my cellphone, he opened it…saw my camera phone picture, and asked who the snowboarder was. “That would be my lesbian girlfriend with long hair, dickhead.” Of course I told him it was me. Then he said some retarded shit like, “You think snowboarding is fun because it’s dangerous?” WTF? Yeah, I like living dangerously, does that mean I have a kilo of heroin in the car? Then the shithead took out my camera and turned it to see if I have pictures in them. What the hell? Was he hoping for pictures I had posing next to the world’s tallest cannibis plant? The memory card was empty, but what if I took personal pictures with them? I was beginning to feel very violated.
Then the stupid idiot pulled out my oil-blotting paper and asked, “What’s this? This is rolling paper.” He seemed so fucking pleased with himself to have found incriminating evidence. I told him, “No, those are oil blotting paper, it’s make-up on paper by Shiseido.” He pulled out a sheet, like he intended to send it to the lab or something. I told him, “Look at it, one side has powder on it.” He insisted it looked like rolling paper. My sister commented, “We don’t smoke, I don’t understand why people would roll cigarettes when you can buy them all packed anyhow.” He said he thinks they’re being used to roll joints. We tell him to ask one of the ladies, they’ll know what blotting paper is. He asks…the lady he asked didn’t know about this blotting paper, but she told him flat out that’s definitely NOT rolling paper. Fucktard! He sniffs it and said, “Yeah, it doesn’t smell like it.” Then packs my stuff back and hands my bag to me. I have very low opinion of border patrols now. Fucking asshole!
posted by SteakGirl at 10:35 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home