Borderline Personality Disorder

While you cannot plan for every eventuality, every bump in the road, every tsunami warning that shuts down beaches and highways, every zombie apocalypse, there IS a defense against most occurrences.

Leave plenty of time!

In fact, this would be my #1 item on any top ten list on how to make a vacation a success (and you just know I’m working on a list exactly like that.)

We’d left our home with the Rav4 stuffed with kids, bags and expectations. We had to get to the Bellingham airport, take a quick flight to sunny San Diego, pick up our car and find the hotel. Then on to Legoland, Seaworld, the Zoo, the Midway Aircraft carrier, and the safari.

All booked and checked and double checked.

That left only a few hurdles. We had to cross the border. We had to arrive at the airport on time. We had to hope that our scale was the same as the airline’s scale and all of our baggage was under weight. Then, I thought, the rest would be a breeze.

Of all of those things, only one had me really worried. At the border crossing , we had to present signed and notarized paperwork saying that we could take the children to the US.

Now, you have to understand that at the border, you have no rights. None. No avenue of appeal that’s reasonable. You’re subject to rules and regulations and, sometimes, the mood of the guard. To date, all but one of my experiences has been positive, but this was a new thing for me. Bringing children.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want it to be easy to take children to Dubai where their mother can never see them again. But if we couldn’t cross, the whole great epic adventure would come to a stupendous halt. And the boys would be crushed. They’d spent months believing that it wouldn’t happen, that something would come up to derail it.

So, it was with trepidation that we pulled up to the booth. The boys had heard that they have microphones everywhere and could hear everything you said. So it was like they were in church with nuns hovering behind them waiting to whack their hands with heavy wooden rulers. (Note to self: foster this belief in the house!)

The guard asked the usual questions. Do you have any fruits or vegetables? (hell, no, we don’t even have any in our fridge.) What’s the purpose of the visit? Where are you going? One time when I crossed the border I hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before and when asked that question, the destination vanished in my mind. I ended up looking like a guppy gobbing water bubbles as I searched my mind for the answer.

However, this time, the Prettiest-girl-in-the-world was sharp as a sharp thingee and answered all the questions to the guard’s satisfaction, presented her paperwork, did her best to look innocent and honest, and we were allowed through.

First hurdle passed. We’d read that the border wait was 30 min. We, therefore, assumed a bit longer than that.

It took, what, 10? 15 min?

The boys burst into conversation as we roared onto the highway towards Bellingham airport, confident they were beyond the microphones. The traffic was light, the weather was great, the Prettiest-girl-in-the-world knew the way.

That left us with a small problem, we were WAY ahead of schedule. The flight left at 4ish. It was noon.