“Ladies and gentlemen, we are now arriving at the Candanian border. Please have your passports and paperwork ready.”
All the passengers aboard the tour bus retrieved the requested items from their purses and wallets, myself included. I gazed out the window and saw the customs and immigration building underneath the Candanian flag flying in the breeze. I was hoping this part of my vacation would go smoothly.
The bus coasted to a stop as the driver announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, please gather your belongings and meet the customs officers inside the building. This shouldn’t take long.”
Everyone unboarded the bus and made their way inside the building where they formed a line to present their passports to the customs officers. The line moved swiftly as the officers glanced at the passports and paperwork and welcomed the tourists to Candana. Maybe this won’t go so badly after all.
Then it was my turn to go to an available customs officer. He greeted me warmly as he examined my passport. Suddenly the smile on his face vanished as his eyes widened with shock. “Come with me, sir,” the officer ordered as he led me to a back room where five officers surrounded me and immediately began shoving me around.
“Wait, wait!” I yelled.”Why are you shoving me around?”
“You are from Loridfa, correct?”
“Yes, that’s where I live.”
“And that’s where tourists from Candana go for the winter, correct?”
“On the morning of November 15th of last year, you were driving on the interstate when you swerved and cut off a driver who happened to be a tourist from Candana. An attack on one is an attack on all! It’s payback time, beeyotch!”
And so the shoving continued, much to the chagrin of the other tourists who seemed to know the reason for the delay.