Day Trip to the United States

Left the Big Smoke just after rush hour and headed for the border. My mother, sister and I had decided to take Ffion, a visiting Welsh lass, over the big invisible line to show her the wonders of The United States of America. Ffion had to register at US Customs by having her picture taken and her index fingers digitally scanned. That was cool. She had two black eyes due to a Muskoka boating accident over the weekend (only the best of Canada for our visitors!) and we were concerned that US Border Patrol might think she was our abused white slave that we kept locked in a pantry and forced to produce unreasonable amounts of Welsh Rarebit - the only possible thing I could think we'd specifically need a welsh slave for. We were also concerned since two of us had distinctively Arabic stamps in our passports - Mine from my honeymoon in Morocco, and Z's from an archaeological dig in Jordan. Z got drilled a bit on the Jordan thing, but we had no problems and the corn-fed American cutie doing the paperwork even recommended we get some Buffalo wings. We're pretty sure he was flirting and not lookinig for MidEast sympathizers, while a smiling portrait of George W. Bush beamed out over the office. I'm not used to such leader-worship, and was reminded of Morocco, where portraits of the King preside over every business.
Then it was off to Target. I adore Target. I got a fake-vintage rock T-shirt with The Beatles on it, and also one of Bon Jovi. This raises lots of interesting quesstions about authenticity and manufactured coolness (or lack thereof), but I was most interested by the 14-year-old girl that also looked at the Bon Jovi pierced-heart and skulls rock design and declared "Cool." Now, I actually dig Bon Jovi, and not even in an ironic hipster way. But this girl, if she'd ever heard Bon Jovi on the radio it wouldn't have been any of the diggable rock anthems of his early career (mainly anything from Slippery When Wet, which I own on cassette) but the incredibly mediocre recent stuff, like the pussy-fied "Bed of Roses" or "It's My Life" or even the undeniably crap "Have a Nice Day." Are you kidding me? Have a Nice Day? You were a rock GOD, dude. No-one in leather pants and with that much hair should say Have a Nice Day - not even in an ironic hipster kind of way. That shit sucks. So, is this little girl digging the total rebellion as represented by the bleeding skull and gothic lettering - albeit purchased at the ultra-sanitized Target and not out of the back of a van at some sweaty concert? Or is Bon Jovi so freakin' uncool in her mind, so completely ironic, that it's cool again? I digress...

We drove around outside Buffalo for a bit - got lost going this way and that on the I-90. Finally saw a sign that said "Canada" and went for it.
All the way up to the border crossing, my mother was saying that we'd just be truthful and declare everything we'd bought, it was just a little tax and not worth the bother of trying to hide our purchases. Then, when the border guy asked about how much we spent, she blithely lies: "Oh, around fifty dollars."
I start blushing furiously. Fifty? Yeah, maybe EACH. At each store we visited!
He asks to see reciepts and Z and Ffion each hand over only a couple. Then he asks to look in the trunk. I'm pretty sure that if he'd looked me in the eye at this point and spoken to me, I would have blurted out: "Busted!" and maybe peed my pants. There's a fucking mountain of Target bags back there. He tries to open the trunk, but it's locked. It's a new car, and Z is fiddling urgently with the trunk-unlocky-thingy, but he still can't get it. Then, things start getting the way they do in my family: intense. Z is frustrated and almost yelling from the driver's seat: "It's unlocked!" My mom gets out to go sort out the incompetence. This wins her a "Please step back into the vehicle, Ma'am." Finally, he gets it. He pokes about looking for the smokes and booze that we don't have - ignores the heap of Made-In-China apparel - and sends us on our way. Phew.
Off to Niagara Falls. We went, we saw, we appreciated.




Then we went to Niagara-on-the-Lake and soaked up the cutesyness. This place used to be adorable, but now has kind of a theme-park taint to it. Nevertheless, it still has the very best fudge shop on Earth. I know that every small town in Canada has an "authentic" Olde Fudge Shoppe, but I will stand by the "Maple Leaf Fudge shop" in Niagara-on-the-Lake as the very best. It's creamy. The air is so sweet in there you get a buzz just from breathing.

Strolling down main street past all the Shoppes.

Our last stop was for dinner in Port Dalhousie, which is genuinely cute. It was too hot to even go look at the beach there, so we piled back into the air-conditionned car and headed home.

Side note about The United States: J and I have decided that it would be fun to always call it The United States and talk about it like it was some quaint place we'd heard of - i.e. I've been to The United States! People were so friendly in The United States. I know someone from The United States...Do you know Monica?