My own experience with (and as a) border jumper

No politics or race here, just a funny story.   

Fast backward to a time when I had a full head of air, and a less full waistline, about 27 years ago. I was dating the awesome girl that was to be my wife (good thing nobody warned her haha). She lived in a suburb of Detroit that had (and still has) a very large Japanese population. She and I were going to Canada with her brother and a friend who was here for school from Japan. 

He wanted to say he'd been to Canada so we went to Ontario for the evening. We got to the bridge and the officer asked our nationalities and we said "US, US, US, Japan". He asked to see our friends papers, looked them over and said, "Ok just go up there, make a left. You're all set." 

We went "up there" and "made a left" and followed the exit signs. All set. Got out no issues. Had our fun in Ontario (and found Flake candy bars!!) and got back to the parking lot where we left the car and it was......GONE!!! We were shocked that his crappy little '87 323, base model with a 4-speed and roll-up windows was stolen. I said "Man Dan, you come to my neighborhood all the time (bad part of Detroit) and nothing happens. We come to Ontario and you're car is stolen?!?!" We were all shocked. We found our way to a police station to report it as stolen (before cell phones) and the officer took the car's description and plate number and said, in the nicest, most Canadian way possible "Oh, your car wasn't stolen. It was impounded. You're border runners". He said it like he was telling us "oh, your car wasn't impounded. We took it to a detail shop to get it detailed for you. We figure'd you'd like that".

It was surreal. 

He tells us to go to customs to work it out. Not arrested, not taken to customs in a police car, just set free in their city, the scofflaws we were.  

Weird.

So we walk to the border and find someone to talk to. He explained that we were supposed to go to immigration so our Japanese friend could get his paperwork looked at, stamped, or whatever they do. Since we hadn't done that, our car was impounded. The impound lot was closed until Monday. The car was in jail, but we weren't? He told us we couldn't leave the country until we had it all straightened out. We explained that we had NO idea that we were supposed to go to immigration or anything. We repeated what we were told and explained that "up there" and "to the left" was the exit. He agreed that it was, but so was immigration. We told him that we didn't remember hearing the word "immigration" or anything like that. I suppose he could tell that we weren't the normal rowdy American youth that come to Ontario to get drunk and puke on their sidewalks and said he'd review the tape of our time at the gate.

After reviewing the tape he told us that he agreed 100% that we weren't told clearly what we had to do. He called the impound officer in from home (by this time it had to be 1 am) to get our car out. He also called the officer we dealt with to his office. The room we were in was glassed in, the room he was in was glassed in, and there was a room between us and we could (just barely) hear the yelling at the officer was getting. The first and only time I saw a Canadian being anything less than overly polite LOL.  

He apologized to us, we thanked him profusely, we all shook hands, we all got home. 

For a few hours I was an international fugitive. 

Great story, funny

Border crossings are weird.

A friend and I made a run up to Vancouver Island a few years back to check out a Toyota Celica GT-Four (All-Trac here). We went through in a Dodge we borrowed from a friend, with a borrowed trailer (from a different friend). Going north, no questions were asked as to why, just "Have a nice day, hope the car is cool."

We bought the car, paid cash and hauled it back to the border, after another 3 hour ferry ride. At the border, we were stopped immediately and pulled in to customs. We were then grilled for 4 hours about the ownership of the truck, the trailer and the newly acquired non USDM market Toyota. They didn't want to let us through and made comments multiple times about where we would be sleeping there that evening. 

The reason this is all so funny to me, is that I lived less than three blocks away from this particular border crossing. I could see the tree in my front yard from the parking lot of customs.  So close, yet so far...

that's a great story and totally believable given my experiences with crossing from US to Canada pre-9/11.

My border story is from the International Bridge in Sault Ste Marie, circa December 1993.  I worked for a car company, and we were up north for winter test.  it's a Saturday night and someone floats the idea of going to "the Ballet," an idea which is quickly ratified.  So we have a couple pre-Ballet beverages, then hit the road. When the Canadian border guy asks why we're entering his beloved homeland, the lightweight in the back seat shouts "we're gonna see your sister dance, eh?!!?!?"  out of the car, background checks (such as they were back then), trunk emptied, any interior trim that could be removed, etc.  i think it took us about an hour to fill out all the forms etc, then we had to put the car back together before continuing our night.

A few years ago my girlfriend did a month in Rome in a study abroad program. We found it was significantly cheaper to fly out of Vancouver than to fly out of Seattle. When I went to pick her up, I stopped in Bellingham to grab some flowers. Bought some, tossed them on the passenger seat and drove over the border no problem. On the way back, we got the third degree because we were "importing" flowers. Guy. They're from the US. I bought them 4 hours ago.

I've been lucky with all the times I've gone through customs, no problems other than some extra bag searches due to being a long haired hippie at the time. Once, the Dutch border police asked me what a round metal object on the X-ray was; I said, well, I have a spiked metal belt maybe? They said no, something much bigger, and heavier. I started to get nervous because I had no idea what it could be. They finally opened my bag and in it was a rusty cover for a water valve that I found loose on the ground in a park, and decided would make a good souvenir. I remembered as soon as I saw it and kind of stumbled through explaining it to them. They laughed and said, "Well, why not?" and sent me on my way. Phew.

Canadian border is funny. 

I guess about 10 years ago my friend Matt was getting married and had his bachelor party as a fishing trip in Canada. I don't have a passport so I couldn't go. They rented an RV and drove up, I think 8 people. Got in no problem, got to the campground and spent the night. The next morning as they're getting ready to go fishing a cop pulls up. "Which one of you is Gable? You need to come with me"

Being good friends, they postponed fishing to go see what the problem was.

Gable had a DUI in 03 or so, turns out, that makes you unwelcome to visit the Great White North even 8-9 years after the fact. 

I always found it much more pleasant crossing into Canada than into the US. There was obviously a cultural difference in what the border guards felt their job was. Never tried it as an international fugitive, though.

Best example was when I was living in the US under a temporary visa. The one in my passport was expired but my visa had been extended, and I'd been informed of that by USCIS or whoever it was. The new stamp could only be put in at the border, so this was a normal procedure I explained this, politely, to the officer behind the desk and had to deal with about 15 minutes of being harangued about how I couldn't tell him that my visa was extended, he had to check it for himself. Of course, all the time he was ranting he wasn't checking it, and as soon as he bothered it was about 30 seconds to confirm. But that guy had to take a chunk of time out of his day to wave his bureaucratic dick around for no reason. This was at a border crossing with at least a 30 minute lineup of traffic outside, so it's not like he was short of things to do.

Generally, though, other than a lot of "guilty until proven innocent" attitude from the US crossing guards, that's the only really bad experience I've had. The smaller land crossings are usually more pleasant because everyone's got time to be human beings about it.

Oh, I did have some German friends who had a bit of trouble getting into Canada. They were flying in to Ottawa to meet up, then we were going to drive down to Dallas for a big Miata event. They were going to borrow my dad's Miata for the trip. When they hit immigration in Canada after their flight landed, they didn't know my address (I was picking them up), they had no car or transport and the agents had a hard time believing this story of planning to be across the border into the US within 24 hours. Eventually, I got paged out in the arrivals area so I could give an address and confirm the details of the plan.

In reply to Keith Tanner :

The only time I've been asked to pull over for a search was by a Canadian border officer, on the way into Canada. The funny thing is, I was a young, funky looking hippie dude and she was a young, funky looking lady wearing Doc Martens just like me. Then she gives me the fifth degree about whether I'm importing booze or anything else, and waves me over to the inspection station. The guys inside come out, do the most cursory glance at my car, and send me on my way. I feel like she was just proving she doesn't cut freaks any slack just because she's funky too.

Years ago, we took two of our grandkids to the Vancouver BC Zoo.  Got through Canuck customs with no hassles and had a great day in Vancouver.  Heading back to the US, we got a jackass Border agent. 

We had documentation that we had their mother's permission to take them out of the country, but this guy decided that it needed to be notarized (no indication of this on the form we had).

It finally came down to us asking the guy where we should drop the kids so we could go hire an attorney in Seattle.  He got a deer in the headlights look on his face, asked the kids who we were (grandma and papa) and he waived us through.

In reply to Birdmayne (vehicle story) and others that noted going into Canada was great and coming back to US was horrific, here's another story:

A buddy had an FD RX7. They like to break down, we all know that. It broke down at his buddies house in Canada. He asked me to help him get it back a few weeks later (an FD owner always has a backup haha so he left the car in his friends garage). So he rents a trailer and I grab my Ram with the Cummins to go get it back. 

Going into Canada:
The officer asks why were there. We explain the broken car, show him our licenses and the rental paper work for the trailer. He wishes us lock and we're on our way. 

Coming back to US:
The officer asks why we're coming to the US and we explain that we're just coming home with his broken car. We give him our licenses, rental paper work for the trailer, and the registration for the FD. The officer asks to see registration for the truck. No problem officer. Then he asks for the title to the FD. We explain again that it is his car. It broke down in Canada 2 weeks ago and we're bringing it back home. We refer him to the registration for the FD that he's holding in his paws. He demands to see the title. We assume he's just not hearing us. We reiterate that he's owned the car for years. He was visiting a friend on such and such a date and the car broke down. We are here today to bring it home. 
The officer actually told us that he can't let us through without a title, and he didn't care about the registration. I (getting irritated and more balsy than smart) ask him why the registration for my truck is ok, but the registration for his car isn't. He had no answer. He just acted like he couldn't believe we didn't have the title. I asked why I've never had to show a title when crossing back into the US. No answer.
It just went on and on. Us trying to explain that we don't keep the title in the glovebox, and that the title is what you use to get a new registration.
In the end, he let us go 'as a favor' to us, but sternly said we need to have title next time. As I pulled away I just looked at him and said "nope".  

What a tool that guy was. 

Every time I've gone to Canada, it has been on a RABC (Remote Area Border Crossing) permit. You basically do customs a few months in advance through the mail, then go through a remote area (on a Canoe in my situation), and are only allowed to be there for the duration  you say you are. 

Coming back, you're supposed to go through US Customs. Except US Customs is about 18 miles from our outfitters, and each time we've stopped, they've been closed for lunch. Seeing as we're not bringing anything back, and we're US citizens, we wave our passports towards the window while continuing into town and onwards home.

I grew up in NY and went to college in MI. The fastest way there was through Canada so I made the border crossing at Lewiston (Grand Island) and Sarnia dozens of times. Nothing amazing ever happened on those crossings but the line into Canada was always pretty reasonable and the line to cross back into MI at Sarnia was always a disaster, sometimes 3 hours or more. Back into the US at Lewiston wasn't usually bad but boy did they make it seem like getting into Michigan at the Sarnia / Port Huron crossing was the honor of a lifetime.

The only time I think I've ever been a border jumper was after the earthquake in Haiti. The airport was destroyed and there was no air traffic control. The only planes that could land in the country were those that could land on water or small planes that could land on a road or beachfront. 
 

The planes were too small to be able to afford the fuel to fly to the other side of the island to go through Customs, so we basically smuggled relief supplies, food, and medical into the country without going through Customs. We couldn't afford the additional payload for the fuel. 
We landed on drug runner's landing strips.

We had 120 small planes. We probably jumped the border into Haiti 500-600 times. 

I only recently heard this story.

I've always lived within an hour or so of the border and crossed many times, but when I was very young, probably 4 or so, my parents were going on a shopping trip to Buffalo. The customs agent asked my parents their names, and where they were from. We were living in the steel town and Hamilton was the answer. Turning to me he asked, and what is your name young sir? I answered, Mike, my name is Mike. And what is your last name Mike? Listening to my parents, and being the precocious youngster that I (thought) I was, I answered proudly, Hamilton sir. Well I guess that caused all kinds of problems and my parents had to prove who was and that they were not kidnapping some kid named Michael Hamilton.

Story 2:

When I was 18, one Friday night, me and 2 of my buddies had the brilliant idea that we were going to drive to North Carolina for the weekend. I have no idea why, but since I had the more fuel efficient car, a 74 Regal, 350 4barrel, I was chosen to be the driver. We headed out with a map, very little money, and a generous amount of herbal encouragement. When we got to the border, the three long haired freaks that we were, were hauled in and interrogated. We gave some pretty flimsy answers to some pretty serious questions, but they decided to let us go, once we split up all the money we collectively had, equally among us. You see, I had the car, but no money in my pocket, and they wouldn't allow a vagrant into the country. I remember very little of the trip other than stopping at McDonalds for lunch somewhere along the way, and the fact that the Regal did not stop running, except to gas it up, for the entire weekend. Well, that and the fact that if they had searched us once we inside, all three of us probably would have had to call our parents to get us out of jail.

Story 3:

Three years ago Mr's P and I took a midweek mini vacation in the Falls, something we've been doing mid-winter for the last 40 years. It was decided that we would pop over the border on day one to do some shopping, and have dinner at a local Mexican restaurant. Day two was a trip to a wreckers in Erie PA to pick up a transmission for a project I had on the go. It was the closest one I could find and the price was right. On the way back we'd made reservations at a fancy steakhouse in Bufflao we'd always wanted to try. It was going to be a leisurely road trip finished off with a fat steak dinner. The evening before it started to snow. The reports on the Buffalo news amounted to nothing short of a world ending snowfall, with pretty much everything being closed. On our side it didn't seem like much was happening, so we carried on. When we got to the border, the customs agent asked what our business was in your country, and we laid out our plans for the day. He suddenly got a somber look on his face and announced that the highways were closed and he was not to let anybody into the country, and that we were stuck in limbo as we were neither in, nor out. We looked at each other in horror, and looked back at him wondering WTF we were going to do. When he started laughing and said, just kidding, you guys have a great time. As it turned out the snowfall wasn't excessive, but the roads to Erie were brutal. It was a long drive, but we got the transmission, and headed back looking forward to a fat steak dinner, when they texted me saying the restaurant was closed due to the storm. So instead we enjoyed the best $3 big Mac we'd had in a long time.

But my wife?  She's a different story...

We were living in the Dominican Republic for a few years. Early in our stay, she had her guitar stolen. We never got it back, but heard that someone was in jail for it. 
 

Lots of corruption there in those days. Basically guilty until proven innocent, and then locked in a 6x6 cell with a ceiling that was too low to stand up.

After a couple years, it was time for us to leave the village permanently. We happened to be leaving during Patronales- "Patron Saints Day". Basically a week long excuse for massive public drunkenness. The streets were packed wall to wall with drunken people making as much noise as they could. 
 

I heard from a friend that the Police Chief was looking for me. He was a mountain of a man with very poor communication skills. I think the only reason he got to wear the badge was because he was 18" taller than anyone else in the village. He was roaming the crowded streets looking for me. 
 

I figured he had heard we would be leaving town within a couple days, and wanted to put some pressure on me. I figured he wanted to lock me up on some trumped up charge until I paid him a bribe to let me go.

So I did what any man with a pair of huevos like mine would do... I hid in a back room of the house and told my wife to lie for me. When he came to the door, my wife told him I wasn't there. He told her to tell me to come see him. 
 

I realized hiding in the back room for a few days wasn't gonna work. Eventually, I told my wife that if I wasn't back in a few hours, she should assume I was locked up and send help. I got on my motorcycle and drove to his office in the next town. 
 

I sat at his desk and tried to talk with him. My Spanish was terrible. His was worse. I really didn't understand what he was saying. We blabbered incoherently back and forth with each other until I heard him say something about "la guitara". I said "Wait a minute!  Is this about the guitar?  That was my wife's!  You need to talk to her!"

He said yes. He wanted to talk to my wife.  I told him he was already talking with her! He said yes, but I am the MAN, so he needed to talk to me first. 
 

Apparently a summons had been issued for her to appear in court (which she never saw) to testify against the guy who allegedly stole the guitar. When she didn't show in court, a warrant had been issued for her arrest. 

Now the rules had changed. I was willing to get locked up. There wasn't a chance in HELL  I was willing to let my wife get locked up in a foreign prison. 
 

I went back to my village and consulted with a friend who was a local businessman. He said, "Wait a minute... aren't you leaving the country in a few days?"  I confirmed. He said, "Don't worry about it. This is the Dominican Republic. There isn't a chance in the world they will ever get the paperwork done faster then several weeks from now. Just go ahead and leave. Don't worry about it".

So we did. 
 

A week later we were in the airport getting ready to go through Customs. I thought I'd make a joke. I leaned over to her and said, "They've got a computer up there. I hope they don't figure you out!"  I knew I'd berkeleyed up. I never saw her so afraid. She was sweating bullets. 
 

After we made it successfully through Customs and turned the corner headed for the airplane, she started smacking me. I guess I earned that.

But the worst moment was after we were on the plane. The plane pulled away from the gate, then stopped. It stood still for several minutes. Then the Captain made an announcement in both English and Spanish. He said Security had requested we return to the gate.  The plane taxied back to the gate, and military personal dressed in fatigues and carrying machine guns entered the plane. My wife was terrified. They searched through the luggage bins, and walked the aisles looking at all the passengers. They checked credentials. Eventually, they left the plane. We never knew what they were looking for.

That was 31 years ago. My wife has never been back to the Dominican Republic, and never will. 
 

She still hasn't forgiven me!

I once crossed into Panama from Costa Rica illegally in a canoe to do some quick shopping / looking around for a few hours.

No drama, but some boarders are bit "looser" then others.

Once during our relief efforts in Haiti I was flying with my boss onto a small island off the coast. The beachfront was really short with large boulders at the end. He wanted to circle low to check out the landing area. 
 

He made one pass, then circled back to make his landing. We unknowingly flew a little too close to a US aircraft carrier sitting off the coast. 
 

I guess our movements looked erratic. As we circled, an Osprey took off from the deck of the carrier. It hovered facing us, and made sure to stay between us and the carrier the entire time. 
 

I knew we were in his sights. THAT was mildly uncomfortable!!

My best buddy from HS, a good Mormon boy, went into Canada on a road trip in his '63 Volvo 122 2 dr.  I had helped him rebuild the engine a couple of months earlier - it ran great.  Beautiful car, no rust, perfect interior.

He got into Canada with no issues, but at the US crossing coming home, the agents decided he was smuggling *something* and proceeded to take razor knives to the entire interior, completely destroying everything.  I saw the car afterward and told him he should file a complaint, but he wouldn't.

He was so discouraged, he drove the Volvo to the wreckers a few weeks later and got nearly nothing for it.

In reply to DrBoost :

I still can't believe I used to go to Canada for lunch! 

I did temporary support of Chrysler Minivan facilities construction work in Canada (NO I did not WORK in Canada, Minister of Labour! Just "supported" the CAW and salaried Canadian citizens.) 

I did get jammed up by Canadian Border Agents for arriving at the same time every day for a week. So they sent me back home and I couldn't re-enter for 8 or so days. Just remember it not being even weeks anything. So then our USA side of the team had to make sure to vary our time arriving at the border by 30 minutes to an hour.

Then one day I was asked to help bring some Manufacturer plated minivans to the Windsor, Ontario minivan plant. Four of us convoyed up three RHD vans and started on our way with all the legal paperwork and the customs coordinator's phone number. As the vehicles are RHD we are told to go to a truck inspection area. We line up the vans. They let me go on my way after 15 minutes. The Windsor Assembly Plant is very close to the border so I just go there and park and wait for the others. The second van arrives with two of my coworkers shortly after but the third doesn't show up for hours. So three of us accounted for.

Eventually, we have someone at the plant office call the border. Come to find out that the 4th of our group was convicted of drunk driving didn't have a license and was also wanted on several drunk driving and assault charges in Canada and Canadian Labour partnered with Canadian Customs and Border to play super hard ball with Chrysler. Threatened to shutdown crossings of any and all US citizens for support of work at Chrysler Canada. I guess they worked it out as we got permission to come get the minivan so we did that, some very unhappy customs and border guys helped us and a supervisor had some strong words for us Americans crossing the border so often. Some rather irked Canadian Border guys did like a quadruple confirmation on all our passports and driver's licenses. We I never saw that 4th guy again at work and never drove another M plate across the border. But even then some regular plated minivans had bunches of test modules bolted to the dashboards or floorboards. That was how my years of NOT WORKING in Canada and crossing the border. I remember driving a van across with no interior trim, it felt like I was smuggling cars sometimes. 

So as someone else posted. Drinking and driving and entering Canada don't mix.

In reply to DrBoost :

Oh man I just remembered another time when my friend was driving. He knew he was supposed to pull over for inspection but didn't understand where to go. He made it all the way to the street and then decided to try and reverse back into the inspection area. HA it was funny but not funny as they thought we were running the border too and so they have a car that sits near the exit ready to go if they think it is worth the chase. So my friend kept trying to "let them by" thinking they were just trying to leave not realizing they were trying to get him. It was quickly resolved thankfully.

Still it was funny and scary with him frantically trying to reverse around and simultaneously let past the border patrol car for a few moments!!!

Years ago I was still living and working in Canada. I worked at a seat cushion molding plant and there was a truckers strike so our product couldn't move through the border to our Detroit area JIT seating plant. My boss, the plant manager, a short fellow ( he over compensated for his height constantly) and an American decides to send parts by the van load in his company supplied Astro, utilizing plant employees to drive it. Sometime after midnight the boss gets a call from the border and the driver is being held by Canada Customs and Immigration after attempting to return to Canada. Problem was he was driving an American registered Astro into Canada at 1:00 AM and he wasn't Canadian, he was a Mexican national ! We didn't know that last part. So the boss and I go to Sarnia and he lays into the customs guy (height compensating mightily) . Not a wise move. Rule one is never antagonize those guys, even the Canadian ones. So, the boss isn't doing well at getting his van released, or the driver when he's asked for his work permit. Another detail overlooked, he didn't have it with him, it was tucked in the visor of the van. That's another no-no. You're supposed to keep it with you. So Customs has a Mexican natinal, driving an American van, into Canada and he's in possession of the work permit belonging to the boss.I finally calmed everyone down, sent the boss out to wait in my car, got the employee released, but Canada Customs impounded the van for a week and I had to sweet talk the officials, pay a significant impound fee, and apologize for my boss' behaviour to get it back. One Customs officer told me directly it would have all been handled much quicker "had the short guy not been such a dick"....

I used to drive from Syracuse NY to Flint MI through Canada. By myself with everything I owned in the back of a pickup (bed, computer, everything everything) about four times per year. It was always a pain. I also also struggled with what to snack on during this ride. That'll be important in a minute. Often the truck would run poorly. One time the line was literally two miles long (I think going into Canada) and the truck had no radiator fan, so I just shut it off and pushed it a foot or two at a time for a few hours while in line. I finally get there and I get the standard stuff, then the "you're lucky border crosser #xx" go over there so they can search your vehicle.

I had everything everything everything in the truck. It would take hours just to unpack and pack it all again.

I go to the building and the counter and wait in another line. The guy introduces himself and asks if I have any fruits or vegetables to declare. I was angry and had more testosterone than brains. I angrily threw a bag on the counter in front of him and said "Yeah, I have these four cherries". The dude -let me go- and never searched the truck. I left him the cherries.

I travel to Wyandotte, Michigan every month and stop to catch up on emails by a park  and look across the Detroit River and think........at dusk I can swim to that little island, hide out and be in Canada tonight hanging out.   

It was funnier in my head when Covid had just started.  

Datsun310Guy said:

I travel to Wyandotte, Michigan every month and stop to catch up on emails by a park  and look across the Detroit River and think........at dusk I can swim to that little island, hide out and be in Canada tonight hanging out.   

It was funnier in my head when Covid had just started.  

you will not land at the spot across the river.  you will land a mile or more downstream.  detroit river current is strong.