I got off the plane in Vancouver (the stopover from A’Dam) and started trying to find my way around Vancouver International. Not as easy as it sounds, since the signs that say “Going to US? Go this away …” all end, about 500 meters later and after going over catwalks, up and down stairs and through long empty hallways, in other signs that say “You can’t go here. Go back.” It was fun watching about two dozen Americans wander around like the lost tribe of Israel trying to figure out how the hell to get to wherever it was they were supposed to have gone.
Eventually I hear my name called on the PA, and arrive at a baggage desk to be informed that my baggage didn’t leave Amsterdam. How nice! It will be joining me in Seattle. Probably. Eventually.
In the meantime, customs is right over there …
As I walk up to US customs I notice a nice man holding a nice dog. I am not a complete fool, and had nothing on me that the dog should care about, but I have been in Amsterdam rather recently. The nice dog really likes me, and proves this by running up to me and shoving his nose into my crotch.
“Sir, could you step this way?”
I knew I was back in the land of the brave and the home of the free when a woman snapped on a rubber glove, looked me in the eye and said “You do realize we can strip-search you, don’t you?”
Ok, now it’s over. Go home.
Signing off, Thog
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