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The Problem with Beanie Babies

Paul C. Fanning, DTM

either, just the green
of customs instead of
the gleaming brown

boots, red serge tunic,
and Stetson hat—a uniform I rarely ever saw that they had blockaded our marine ferry boat
worn in Canada itself. Mounties are famous for at Saint George, but. . . The officer indicated
“always getting their man,” or so they say, but I should roll my window down in the rather

this one day we discovered that the Customs balmy 40F degree weather, and it was not the
and Excise men (and woman) are just as tough usual “welcome to Canada, eh” but “step out of
and formidable! the car—all of you. Pop the boot for me.” Thank
It had been an uneventful trip into Canada goodness my English background translated the

and down to Haines, just miles of tundra until we boot to the American, i.e., trunk, at once. Then
hit British Columbia and green trees into Alaska I started feeling guilty for no reason at all. The
again. We were a party of four. I was the junior usual Canadian smiling, friendly, and politeness
man on the totem pole and “getting” the privilege had vanished, and four hardened criminals now

of doing the driving. Nice sedan with road dust lined up before the two men. Next, we were told
and three near retirement passengers as well to identify our luggage and have it next to us
looking very much like the kid taking gramps ready to be inspected. My superior, a veteran
and two grannies out for a ride. Except we had a of far many more crossings than I (who had

marked vehicle and were in uniform. This was been rolling through the checkpoint for-ev-er)
normally a quick, one day home trip—smooth started to speak but an upraised Canadian hand
sailing with the wind at our backs—and a mere silenced him.
nod of the head at the control station. It was then that I began to believe someone

There, in the overhang, stood two excise was playing a prank on us—perhaps someone at
men with their hands on their hips. I knew this Haines or the gas station/post office/restaurant in
was not the day for a brief chit-chat or road Haines Junction (Canada) where we had bought
conditions brief as they motioned for me to stop. gas. The officer reached into his tunic pocket and

One officer went to my door while the other pulled out 3 x 5 cards and handed one to each of
officer went to the passenger side. Thoughts us. They were emblazoned with the Canadian
flooded my mind—had the Russians invaded crest, Customs and Excise wording, and I began
Alaska, or were we at war with Canada? I knew to read mine. My boss began to laugh, as did I

VOICES! | MAY 2023 29