Remember, remember the fifth of November

Today is Guy Fawkes Day. I am well aware that a resolution will never come about of bombing the hell out of each party (Palestine v. Israel, need I say more?) But it hasn’t stopped me from imagining the two things that make my life harder being blown into smithereens.

The Hag – as the lone occupant in the Brown Building of Doom. What? Hasn't the organization been trying to test its disaster recovery plan for years now?

The Slow Lane at the Border on Friday afternoons – including the man in the orange vest who forced me onto it last Friday. After seven years of crossing the damn border, ofcourse I know the right lane is always the faster one. Forty five minutes and seventy pairs of tail lights later, I get another newbie in the booth asking me stupid questions.

“No, I have never been denied entry into Canada.”
“Yes, this is my car.”
“No, I have nothing to declare.”
“No, I don’t have weapons or tobacco on board.”
To this he says, "Carry on." (Yessiree, big military reject sir.)

Fuckin Eh. These newbie guards and their lack of confidence in decision making are the leading cause of people getting the two finger strip search special, I tell you. But I was up there to celebrate the Tsu-man’s upcoming birthday and the plan was for the whole family to go out for dinner. So once I passed the border, I did what I usually do - suppress my anger and save it for a blog post.

The Tsu-man was proven right, yet again, when he said that it would only take half an hour with the family for me to realize I didn’t miss them all that much – despite their three week absence while in China. The evening's festivities started with a fifteen minute parking spot hunt (going the wrong direction on a one way lane included) and loitering at the restaurant hallways (the Art of the Neverending Hello and Goodbye is as Brazillian as caipirinhas and thong bikinis, so I’ve been told time and time again.) while blocking out the rest of the other patrons. After much debate, the patriarch mandated we were to eat despite not having our full party present (well, they were more than 30 minutes late.) What started out as a giant comedy of errors, or an exercise in patience, turned out to be a wonderful evening. Crab galore, a chocolate fountain and I even got Cameron to sleep when everyone else struck out!