Border Funnies and Film Festivals

"Turn your car off and give me the keys. Shut your mouth and don't say a word."

I had pulled my car up to the kiosk and the customs officer taken my passport before I could get a look at him.  His steely voice meant stomach-knotting business, and I thought my life of crime had caught up with me except what on earth could that be?  Did I do something ten years ago invoking legal suspicion?  Did the unqualified plastic container I put into the recycling bin break the machinery, causing a government collapse somewhere?  What the hell kind of aggressive circus did I fall into?  They can't prove anything; these aren't the droids you're looking for.

I handed him the keys, and decided that I am not going down without a fight of logic based on my intelligence versus troglodyte theatrics; however, both you and I know that many innocents are shanghaied into a maze of locked doors through grisly consequences provided by liars in charge.  Was this the week that first grade teachers were being culled?  Was this person a psychopath?  I turned to read his body language, looking for clues as to how I managed to be the subject of the forthcoming interrogation, except the man now had an immense grin on his face.  Andrew.  Andrew Defoe, you turkey, I almost threw up on my steering wheel.  The above is true, except I didn't use the word turkey.

He was just full of himself, laughing as he handed back the car keys.  His mother and I had been close; she is missed dearly.  "Did you have a good time?" he asked, meaning my trip into Canada.  Yes, except for this part.  Excuse me while I find my internal organs, which I think are hiding under the front seat.

A friend and I had gone to a talk and showing of three short Mary Pickford films that was held at a posh hotel/spa/yoga retreat in St. Catharines, Ontario.  The presentation was quite well done, and after, there had been a party; when that ended, the group moved to a seating area, with furniture drawn by Looney Tunes.  The author joined us for an impromptu conversation, while some of the group crashed a wedding whose bridesmaids were dressed in green sheaths and looked like asparagus.  We were then invited to another party where the river of free drinks flowed and everyone was either a Rocky Horror extra, or pledged costumed allegiance to Stanley Kubrick.  It was the Niagara International Film Fest, and they had just finished a Peter Sellers film to much inebriated delight.

They were all charming, in spite of stating that Buster Keaton would not be on future programs as he wasn't a Canadian; we sort of wondered later in the car while enjoying Happy Meals from the neighboring McDonald's if "The Railrodder", a fun piece funded by the Canadian government starring Buster, should have gained him recognition.  Plus, a Canadian stamp featuring this role just came out, could there be an honorary service recognizing Keaton?  Is this not what the Queen's people want?

After brainstorming ideas together till two a.m., I stayed over at the house, and was able to have coffee on the patio in the morning while watching the birds, squirrels, and bunnies at the feeder.  It was idyllic.  Her mother and I discussed rose bushes and wildlife, British chocolate and the school board.  A trip to a local shop and lunch rounded out a lazy day, and then it was time to turn home.

The bridge was backed up, and cars inched slowly across while hanging hundreds of feet in midair over a ripping fast river.  I don't think of such things as dangerous, even when the span shuddered as a semi shifted and roused itself to move forward three feet.  After a half hour of this, the tired traveller ran into the final scenario of Now What provided by the above mentioned Mr. Defoe, the humorous, beloved customs officer.  It was good to see him.  I'm still ratting him out to his Dad.

Bed is calling, and I shall answer.  So many new beginnings this past week, look forward to see what approaches and work hard to reach it.  Sleep within innocence, for day has turned; the quiet night has arrived, on tiptoe.