The opera at the border crossing
I am in line at the Aldergrove border crossing, between British Columbia and Washington State, on my way to Seattle for a two-day cycling event. I have been behind a green SUV with California licence plates for the last thirty-four minutes. The girl passenger has changed clothes twice yet did not step out of the vehicle. Her companion appears to be happy, judging by his body language. They have a dog. Earlier in the lineup, just before the flags of both nations, a silver Mercedes with Washington Evergreen State licence plates tried to cut his way in front, but I was on to him. Just then, my cellphone alerted me to roaming charges. Several vehicles entered the duty-free compound and I suppose I could have popped in and purchased a designer-brand belt for my new dress pants and perfume for the wife. The car with the two kayaks and three mountain bikes that was once alongside me is now way up ahead. There is a camper trailer on my