Tales from the Loser Lounge: The Time I Almost Got Detained in Canada

My freshman year of college, I fell in love. As with the majority of the guys I have dated, he turned out to be a complete loser, but before he dumped me for sex with fat girls, skinny girls, ugly girls and a probable, but unconfirmed gay encounter, he was a good boyfriend for a hot second.

I'm not sure of the occasion, but Good Boyfriend for a Hot Second (GBHS) surprised me with a weekend trip to Montreal. Our college was located about 3 hours from Montreal in upstate Vermont, so we kicked off our weekend of fun with a road trip. We were closing in on the Canadian border when I made sure we weren't packing anything illegal such as guns, drugs, Mexicans, stolen babies, etc. GBHS, being a bit of a pot head, assured me we were all set.

A mile or so later, I was startled with an "OH SHIT!" Turns out, GBHS had forgotten about a stash of pills and such he had hidden in a baggie underneath the console liner. We were too close to the border to throw them out, and most of the time the border patrol bypassed searching vehicles, so we decided to leave them where they were. Well, lucky us, border patrol asked us to step out of the vehicle and wait inside. We shot each other panicked looks. My mind started racing with images of the two of us being cuffed and locked in one of those small detaining rooms, while ugly Canadians spit and shouted French in our faces.

They alerted us that they were performing a random bomb and drug swab to detect any possible traces of bomb or drug residue in the car. Fucking great. My pothead boyfriend smoked bushels in that car and let's not forget about the incriminating stash in the console. We watched as they searched and waited with bated breath. After what seemed like an eternity, they closed up the car and motioned for us to come out. I tried to read their stern faces. We were fucked...I just knew it. As we walked out, they opened the doors and thanked us. We both paused, half expecting them to slap cuffs on us when we tried to get in the vehicle.

As we drove away, I gave GBHS the die-in-a-fire look and didn't talk to him until he stopped so I could throw the baggie out. It took me the whole 3-hour car ride for me to stop fuming. Luckily, the rest of the weekend was pleasant, and our trip back over the border was much less eventful.

But seriously, do I know how to pick 'em??