At the border where there was a bit of confusion as to our purpose.
"Excuse me?"
"Beer."
"That's what I thought you said."
The US custom's officer frowns at this unique answer to the purpose of an afternoon trip into the US. What can we say? There's still beer south of the border that just isn't making it north. He looks more closely at the passports before adjusting his firearm and emerging from the protection of the building.
Feeling a bit like a deer in the headlights...
Maybe beer was the wrong answer?
"Pop the trunk."
While from inside the building another customs officer watches us.
"How many dogs?" she asks, her eyes locked on us like
we may be prepared to bolt.
we may be prepared to bolt.
It is a question that combined with the unwavering gaze makes me think that she is suspicious of illegally harbored dogs. No, it was quite clear why the question was asked when the passports and dog vaccination report were returned with one milk bone sitting neatly on top.
"Have a good day!"
And we were off - for that illusive carton or two of summer beer!
2 comments:
Dang! If the border were closer to North Carolina, I'd tell you to stop by and pop the beers out on my back deck. ;-)
I'm guessing that border guard probably wished she was having a beer, too. I'd suggest bringing her one back, but she might decide to do a strip search next time. LOL.
Marcia you make me laugh! And if you'd just be good enough to move that NC border I'd be glad to have beers on your deck!
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