Sunday, July 10, 2005
Border crossing
So, I'm taking the train over the border from Canada, and the customs and immigration guys come into the car to check us all out. And who do they haul off to the cafe car to interrogate? An old Chinese guy who can't speak more than a few words of English.
And then, for good measure, they bring in a dog ("Good girl! Good girl!") to sniff his seat, presumably for bombs.
Oh, I am feeling so much safer. Actually, I'd be happy to feel 5% less safe for a 100% reduction in stupidity, annoyance, and loss of basic liberties.
A very weird transition, coming from Canada, a sane country not at war, back to the States, a crazed country at war.
Then, to top it all off, I have to take SEPTA from 30th Street Station to get home. The sounds, the sights, the smells.... Ah, Philly, an experience like no other!
And then, for good measure, they bring in a dog ("Good girl! Good girl!") to sniff his seat, presumably for bombs.
Oh, I am feeling so much safer. Actually, I'd be happy to feel 5% less safe for a 100% reduction in stupidity, annoyance, and loss of basic liberties.
A very weird transition, coming from Canada, a sane country not at war, back to the States, a crazed country at war.
Then, to top it all off, I have to take SEPTA from 30th Street Station to get home. The sounds, the sights, the smells.... Ah, Philly, an experience like no other!
