So at a rough estimate since I pulled pole from the CF in 1994 I’ve been out of the country ( not including cross border visits to the US, in excess of 40 odd times ( based on the collection of used and current Passports in my home safe) to approx 36 countries , many more than once, on 5 Continents.
All of those were on a plain old Blue Passport, not a fancy Green one. That would make me I think bit of SME on dealing with the guardians of our borders. With the exception of the two immigration officers at Pearson who mistook me for a Cuba refugee (and I think were disappointed when I pulled out the Canadian Passport with born in TO), and the asshat Customs type with a produce fetish in Halifax who nailed me for a contraband apple coming back from Morocco ( and made me waste my two hour stop over and forfeit the chance to buy live lobsters), I’d say my experiences are about average.
For the most part I’ve been treated with respect, and patience. The times I’ve been not given the secret code word and sent to the red channel are actually few and even then a minor inconvenience at best. Some times I’ve blended in with the sea of returning sunburned hung over tourists and been waved through. Other times it looks like I spent the night before my flight in a third world gutter and naturally had to answer some questions. I’ve been polite with them and had the same treatment and courtesy in return. Trust me a single guy in his thirties stepping off a direct flight from Colombia to Pearson will draw attention. CSBA types like CF types come in all shapes and sizes, for the most decent guys doing a sometimes crappy job and sometimes real mouth breathing asshats, that’s life deal with it Princess.
If you thin they’re bad, then trust me stay at home. Compared to our gun toting Chuck Norris wannabe cousins south of the 49th they are the epitome of professionalism. Go in the developing world and have a chat with the guardians of the borders in Colombia, Thailand, Morocco, Japan, Macau, Guatemala, Haiti, the Dominican Republic, Cuba, El Salvador, et cetera et cetera.
In some cases you’ll meet blind bureaucrats who will refuse to listen to common sense and follow unbending nonsensical procedures. In others the only way you’re getting past the barrier is by inserting the special Andrew Jackson entry/exit tax into your passport and smile politely at the Rayban wearing, assault rifle toting thug who passes for law and order there.
That's my two cents, Pesos, Lempira, Bhat, Yen, Dirhams on the matter, your exchange rate may vary. 8)
