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On Thursday, my friends and I learned you don’t joke around with the border patrol. That, however, is a rather long story that sort of loses something if you don’t know everybody involved, so you get this pithy little tale from our trip back into the States this afternoon.

We spent most of our drive time listening to various CDs, including one of my favorite driving discs, Eve 6’s self-title release. Pulling out of the Duty Free store, the U.S. Border Station is in sight. Almost simultaneously, traffic stops and Open Road Song starts pouring out of the speakers. From that point, it was over an hour until we reached the border patrol.

Ah, the dear sweat irony of it all.

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