Fredericton was not better than St. Johns! Now for those of you who love New Brunswick... let me apologize now. But there was nothing we found endearing about the province in our trip down the east coast or this journey up it's middle towards the US border at Houlton.
Making it to the border, as we had decided to press onto a VW event someone had told us about in Maine, we pulled into the lineup expecting the same basic questions we got when we popped over the border in Montana. Not so lucky. "Pull over please sir, you have randomly been selected for a more thorough examination." Deciding it best not to question this 'random' selection, we pulled over. Instructed to leave the vehicle, we made our way into the inner chambers of the US Border Office. Leaving Olive unlocked as instructed their crew carefully went through our vehicle, just outside our sight, as we anxiously waiting within. Young office DoingLittle decided that wasn't enough, so he calls me into a separate interrogation room to ask me some more detailed questions.
Walking into this tiny room was did not bother me as much as the small bench which sported hand cuffs on either side. Quietly I sat down as Sgt Bilko looked about for a note pad. Pulling the pen from his pocket and making some doodles on the newly discovered pad, he began asking me a series of questions. How long do you intend to stay in our country? Are you planning on recruiting clients in our country? Do you have any relatives in our country? He made it quite clear that they were considering "Deporting" me. Then he corrected himself and said... well just refusing admission into "His Country." But I suppose after he was satisfied with my answers, our passports were returned and we were allowed to return to our Olive. Now we were expecting to have to put her back together again, but to our surprise, there was a large stainless steel table on wheels beside our bus, but nothing was on it and she was neat as we left her. Whew. We got into the states.
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