After making my decision to tackle Maui’s Haleakala volcano early in the year, completing months of training, making all the necessary arrangements, and gathering and checking off everything that I had put on my list, it was now time to depart.
October 17th, 2018, six weeks prior to my running challenge, and I was standing outside the security gate at Pearson Airport, Toronto, hugging my parents and saying my goodbyes. I was feeling really good about my upcoming venture, and confident that things were all in line for a smooth transition to my new temporary home.
Back step several months prior, in the spring of this year. My sister, Alyson, and I had been planning our annual camping trip. Our decision on where to go was still a bit up in the air, but I was leaning towards heading down to Mount Mansfield in Vermont. My Father, a born American, and converted Canadian, had other ideas for us though. In his mind there was no reason to chance border crossing complications, nor should we really acknowledge our ties to the United States at all at this time in history. I wasn’t sure if I totally agreed, but after my sister suggested we travel and hike through Quebec’s Gaspesie Peninsula, I had no reason to argue his point. Northeastern Quebec sounded like an excellent substitute to me. And excellent it was. Although, I have to admit, without my personal translator along side (Alyson), I would have been a bit intimidated to travel through our French speaking province. However, I must emphasis not to pass on Quebec as a destination, translator or no translator.
Months later as I am planning for this Maui trip and I am shuffling through boxes and folders in my bedroom I came across my American passport……expired. Now, knowingly about to travel for an extended trip to the States, my common sense should have pushed me to write ‘renew US passport’ onto my list of things to do. But somehow the conversations from this past spring created a disconnect, and instead I chose to set my passport back into the folder and ignore it entirely. But no problem right? Half a million Canadians travel to Hawai’i every year. Why would it be necessary?
Fast forward six hours from my Toronto departure, and the setting is now Vancouver airport’s US Customs desk. “How long will you be in Hawai’i?” questions the woman behind the desk. “Two months” I reply. And at that remark, her eyes began to fill with question marks. “Wow, that is a long vacation! Can I see your return ticket?” Well, I begin “I have not booked one just yet”.
Long pause……
“Okay, sir, could you please come with me?” Now although that was technically a question, it surely was not in this case. So as relaxed and confident as I could possibly be, I followed the customs worker into the back room. There, I was met by two security personnel. Why they needed two, I do not know, but having four eyes staring me down and interrogating me was as uncomfortable as any job interview I’ve ever had.
One simple phrase.
All I needed to do was say the magic words and I would have received a “get out of jail free card”, but what I chose to say was…well, nothing. And at the completion of those roughly ten minutes of questioning, the verdict was that I had no substantial ties to Canada, not enough money to support myself in Maui for much more than a week and ultimately I was trying to work illegally in the United States.
…….What?!
It was at that moment that my brain decided to turn back on. And as one of the men crossed out my US admittal stamp, I urgently voiced my saving grace.
“I am an American”
The look on their faces as I completed that statement was more than amusing. It was as if they had been trying to solve a murder case only to find out that they had been punked, and that there had been in fact no murder at all.
Phew. Well that misunderstanding is straightened out, and I’m free to move ahead, I thought. But wait. Maybe, just maybe, there was something still to be found? They didn’t just waste their time on an idiot ‘kid’ did they? After turning over my social security card to them (which I was smart enough to slip into my wallet), the two men determinedly walked over to the computer desk to do some detective work. After what seemed much longer than necessary, one of the men turned and began walking back towards me. I could see that the expression on his face had changed a little from moments ago, and my intuition said that it was not a positive one for me.
“We have problem”.
As I tilted my head in curiosity, much like a dog might, I inquired what that problem could possibly be.
“Identity fraud. Which is a felony offense. Would you like to explain why your social security number on your card does not match the social security number on your American passport?” (which they had pulled up from the computer)
As his words were dropping from his mouth I can honestly say I became really quite nervous. But, as I leaned forward to scan over the documents I quickly realized the mistake that had been made.
“No, no”, I say. “It’s not fraudulent, it’s just a misprint.” My social insurance number has been placed where my social security number should be. That would be a mistake on your side of things”. And I opened up my wallet to show him the numbers on my social insurance card.
That surprised, slash glum, slash annoyed look crept back into the man’s face.
“Are you kidding me. How did that get approved? Absolutely ridiculous! “
Deep sigh…
“Alright, I really don’t know what to do with this, but we have no reason to keep you. Just make sure you go get your American passport renewed and get this mistake corrected as soon as you can. Now go catch your flight, if you still can”.
I reached down and quickly grabbed my carry-on bag knowing that I would have just enough time to make my connecting flight, and I headed for the door.
“Oh”, the man hollers over to me “the next time you are entering the country, just straight up say that you are an American citizen, and save us all the hassle”.
I turned back to the man and gave an acknowledging smile.
“Absolutely. Proud to be”.
