May 21, 2025

Ever since January 20th, when Trump pretended to take the oath of office, things in America have felt really dark. From people being grabbed off the street by ICE and disappearing from public view without due process to the rise and fake fall of Trump’s top campaign donor, Elon Musk, it’s felt very end of a nation-ish. This includes rumors about changes at the border.

Here in Portland, it’s about a four-and-a-half our drive to the Canadian border. I’ve made the crossing many times. Last time was in December when Cozy and I drove up to Vancouver for the Taylor Swift concert. The crossing was a blast with carloads of Swifties shouting to each other and Canadian border guards the recipients of countless friendship bracelets. It’s so nice having another country just up the road a piece.

So I decided to make a run for the border.

After Andi picked up Cozy yesterday, I hopped on I-5 to make that long journey north; Olympia, Seattle, Bellingham, to the Peace Arch crossing about 10 pm last night. Late on a Tuesday, the usual border traffic jam was gone, but there was something new this time.

On the American side of the Peace Arch, there was a red traffic light and a barricade pushing cars into one lane. Up ahead I saw two armed men talking to a driver. When they finished, I was waved me forward. Two men in black military gear and long rifles stopped me. I searched for any identifying organization; border patrol, ICE, HSI, FBI. Nothing. I could have asked. I could have said, “Hey fellas, I’m on a DHS CP3 project. Who are you with?” But the rifles just shut me up.

It was a brief interaction. One of the men asked me to role down all my windows so he could look in the car. It was clear they were looking for people, not contraband. I have no idea who they were. To tall white guys straight out of central casting. I assumed that if I wasn’t a white male, the stop would have been longer, but they sent me forward where I showed my passport to the border guard and headed into our great neighbor to the north.

I didn’t go all the way to Vancouver. I booked a “pod” just south of the city in Richmond because I saw a program about Japanese pod hotels and it seemed like a fun way to crash for the night before turning around and heading back the U.S.A. in the morning. If you ever wondered what sleeping in a coffin would be like, this was it. But the coffin had wifi, so I got an Instagram post up about the experience. Actually, it reminded me of sleeping on the tour bus back in my road manager days, so I slept well.

This morning, after breakfast at IHOP (it truly IS international!), I headed south. There had been a lot of talk that entering the US would be the real problem. That I would be made to swear loyalty to the Mango Mussolini or would they search my phone and look at my social media footprint where I daily proclaim the emperor has no clothes. One wrong thoughtcrime and I would go from Canada to El Salvador.

There were only two lanes open at Peace Arch so I had time to watch and get nervous. It was obvious that the guards were taking their time, especially with Canadian cars. When is was my turn, I got the 20 questions, about what I did in Canada, who I met in Canada, what I bought in Canada. I know that most of these questions are meaningless and just meant to give the guard a chance to evaluate your demeanor. He took my keys and opened up the back of my car. He said, “Where are all your clothes? Your backpack’s empty.” I wanted to say, “That’s my brother’s backpack. He’s dead.” But, for some reason, I said, “I left them in Seattle.” Again, my white maleness played a role, I’m sure. I was allowed to enter my country and head home to pick up my kid.

The whole thing was weird. Why are there armed guards before you get to the Canadian border guards? What are they asking Canadians coming into the U.S.? Last night, it felt like they are trying to stop people from escaping  the United States, not escape into it, like a scene from The Handmaid’s Tale. I can’t change my skin tone to repeat the experiment, but the joy of international travel by car is now tense and scary. Part of me wonders if I should have just stayed in my pod.