#94. Four Dozen Eggs at the Border

I  often say that I’m a man with two countries. I live in Canada and work in the United States. Actually, I live on one side of the Detroit River and work on the other side. My commute to work is 22 miles and usually takes 35 to 40 minutes – a shorter trip than many with only one country. That includes the time it takes to ‘cross the border’; you know, paying the toll for crossing the Ambassador Bridge and answering the Custom officer’s questions. If you have made purchases, you are required to ‘declare’ them and possibly pay a ‘duty’ fee.

From time to time, a friend occasionally traveled to a large poultry farm in northern Michigan to buy fresh eggs. She always brought back four dozen eggs for me. On one particular evening, I was transporting my four dozen eggs … across the border … on my way home. The Customs agent happened to be a female who had taken a dis-likening to me. Go figure!

The Reader’s Digest version of what happened is that she hassled me with loaded questions and I retorted with my finest answers. Finally, she asked, “Do you have anything to declare?”

 “Eggs.” I kept it simple.

“How many?” She kept it simple.

“Four dozen.” I cannot tell a lie.

“You’re only allowed two dozen!” she exclaimed … with an air of final victory. Then she wrote me up, sent me inside to pay the duty fee on the extra eggs. I paid $8.00 for the duty on two dozen eggs. I was not a happy camper! 

The next three or four months passed without me ever seeing her again. Then, my friend brought me another four dozen, fresh, farm eggs from up north. As I was preparing to go home, I remembered the eggs in the fridge. Staring at them, I found myself pondering whether I would transport all of the four dozen eggs across the border. What to do?

My mother would be proud of me – I picked up two dozen eggs and left the other two dozen in the fridge – which I would take home the following day. When I arrived at the border, I brought my car to a stop, rolled down the window, and prepared to address the Customs agent. I’ll give you three guesses as to who was working in the booth that night – but you only need one. That’s right – it was the very same woman.

“Do you have anything to declare?” she asked.

“Eggs.” I kept it simple.

“How many?” She kept it simple.

“Two dozen.” I cannot tell a lie.

“You’re free to go now.”

 You just can’t make this stuff up! Life is stranger than fiction!

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