I'm from Montreal, I was going camping at a friends' site.
It's about 1h30 minutes from where I live and that makes it very close to the Vermont/QC border. It was this big party to celebrate the begining of summer and I decided to bring a shit ton of hash. Never before or after have I had that amount of hash at one time again.
As I follow the road, my girlfriend at the time informs me it should be pretty close and on the left. We pass buy what looked like a tiny bridge, probably not that, and continued for not even 30 seconds before I noticed the road became weird and split up in a bunch of lanes. Turns the corner and boom, the motherfucking customs office.
Ohshit.jpg
I approach the booth, roll down the window and say Hi Officer. I told him that us being there was absolutely a mistake and we meant to turn left on the bridge but missed and there were no way to turn around as the customs were so close. The guy was super sweet and friendly, I immediately felt 1/120th of the tension drop, but that's about it. He asks for Passports. Yeah, we don't have those. He asks for my girlfriend's ID and mine. Oops, she doesn't have hers. Now I feel my heart rate starting to go up. He asks for the vehicle papers and whatnot. I do, but none of them have my name on it because this is my half-brother's SUV. To make it worse, we have the same mother but not the same father, so we have different last names. I was not having a good time at that point knowing all this info seemed pretty shady and I had SO MUCH FUCKING HASH in the trunk.
He understood the situation, had my girlfriend write up her info on a napkin and asked me to open the trunk real quick.
Time has never felt longer. I swear to god I aged 3 years in that 1 minute inspection.
I made sure to put it really deep, hidden in the Tetris mess of camping supplies. He started pulling some stuff out, but gave up. The agent told us to turn around immediately, go through Canada's side and everything will be ok, joking he would chase us with helicopters if we bolt.
Ha.Ha.Ha.
So we go, turn around, face the meanest canadian agent ever (brah I'm coming back home and this guy 20 meters from you can confirm everything I just said), go to the party, get drunk and smoke the bricks.
The next morning, with a hangover that would ground Thor, I shuffled my way out of my tent and into this nicely strip of land of nothing in the middle of the woods. Decided to piss there, until I hear a guy scream "HEY WHAT ARE YOU DOING"
It's a border patrol. I was pissing in no man's land. Things went okay as he saw my state and was aware of the camping grounds close-by.
TL:DR; Going to a party with bricks of hash, miss a turn to end up at the border with no passport, a car not registered to me or my family and a girlfriend with no ID.