Detained at the Border

Crossing into Canada for a Grindr Hookup

I went into Canada last night to get together with a guy I met on Grindr. We connected pretty much when I first arrived up North, but we hadn’t been able to find a day I could come visit this whole time. This weekend was my last chance, and as fate would have it we were both available. It would be the first time I had crossed the border since before 9/11. I knew that security is much stricter now. It couldn’t get any less strict. They used to just ask your citizenship, where you were going, when you’d be back, and then wave you on through. I knew you need a passport now, which I had with me, but beyond that I assumed it would be pretty much the same as it used to be. I was thinking when I got asked the purpose of my visit I would cheekily say, “Grindr hookup.” Still, I had enough experience from my youth when we used to bring back Canadian beer that it would be a good idea to clean out my car of everything just in case I wound up getting searched, as unlikely as that might be. The only thing in there was my overnight bag, and I was sure to take out anything controversial like the unprescribed Viagra tablet I keep for special occasions.

It’s a short drive from Massena to Cornwall - just a few miles up the road and then across the river. When I got over the bridge, the customs station was nowhere to be seen. At first I thought maybe Canada just let Americans come into the country unabated. But it turned out I was just on Cornwall Island. When I crossed the other bridge to the mainland I came upon the checkpoint. It was a dreary, rainy evening and there was almost no one in front of me. I quickly pulled up to the booth with my passport in hand. The guy was kind of hot. I handed him my passport and he asked me all the questions I was expecting. When he asked the purpose of my visit I just said, “Visiting a friend.”

Then he asked me, “What’s his name?” I wasn’t expecting he would get into any specifics. The truth was I hadn’t even exchanged names with the Grindr guy until that very morning. “I don’t know his full name but his first name is Yu,” I answered. The agent looked back at me. “How long have you known him?” he asked. “I’m meeting him in person for the first time tonight.” “Where does he live?” Fortunately I had it up on my satnav and was able to promptly give him the address. “What’s his phone number?” At this point I started to perspire a little. “I don’t have his number.” “Well how have you been communicating?” “On a dating app.” I chose not to mention that it was Grindr. The agent started writing something down. He handed me my passport back with a card inserted into it. I thought that would be the end of it, but he said, “Park over there and go inside the office. Someone inside will assist you further.” I knew this wasn’t good. Anything beyond “Thank you enjoy your visit” is not good. But I didn’t think it could be too bad. I mean, I wasn’t smuggling drugs or anything. International hookups aren’t against the law in either country.

I parked where instructed and went inside. The guy at the counter was also kind of hot. He could have been the brother of the guy outside. He asked me basically the same questions. When he confirmed that I didn’t have the phone number of the guy I was visiting he asked me to contact him through the dating app and get his number that way. I said I wasn’t sure he would be looking for a message, and it might be some time before I got a response. He said that was fine. It was fine for him. He wasn’t going anywhere. But I started to wonder how long I would be stuck here. I pulled up Grindr, careful not to let him see the profile pic that had Yu’s face dripping with cum. I sent him a message saying, “I’m at customs and they want a phone number.” The message turned red and was flagged “Failed to send.” It was at about that time that I realized I never took into consideration that I might need an international roaming plan for my phone, if I was able to connect at all. I tried again and the next message failed too. Before I fell into a full-blown panic attack I discovered that there was wifi in the customs station. I was able to connect and I sent another message. But this one failed too. I didn’t know what was going on, but I was pretty confident that I wasn’t going to be able to get a message through to Yu, whether he’d notice it or not. I went back up to the counter and informed the agent that I wasn’t able to send the message. I even showed him my phone so he could see the messages that failed to send, again making sure the profile pic didn’t show. He told me to go and have a seat. I really started to wonder how this was going to turn out. I wanted to go back up and ask if I could forget the whole thing and just head back home, but I knew that probably wouldn’t be an option, and if anything would make the situation even worse.

I went back to my seat and waited patiently. I was surprisingly calm, but still not sure what was going to happen next. The guy called a couple other agents over and they started talking. They came out from behind the counter and approached me. “We’re going so search your car,” he said. I was now really glad that I had at least taken the precaution of fully cleaning it out. They took my car key and left me there to sit and wait longer. Several minutes later they came back in and approached me. I wasn’t sure how this was going to go. But he just said, “Thank you” and handed me back my keys and passport. That was it?!? Apparently so. They went back behind the counter and left me standing there alone. I ran back out to my car, opened the door, and what did I find on the driver’s seat but a coupon for Arby’s. I guess it was their way of saying sorry we made a big deal out of nothing. I jumped in and took off like a bat out of hell.

When I got to my date’s house he was actually surprised to see me. I was so late and he had received no messages from me, so he was sure I had stood him up. He had a wonderful duck dinner ready to go, and we had great “interactions” all night long. The crossing back into the US the next morning was uneventful except that the agent pointed out that I had never signed my passport. I don’t know when or if I’ll be crossing back over to Canada again, but if I do I’ll be better prepared this time.

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