Yesterday my sweet wife Delyse and I drove to Niagara Falls, New York. We went to that godforsaken Outlet Mall on Military Rd.
The main reason for going was to buy Delyse some bras. Apparently she really likes the ones they sell over there and can't find the same thing in Canada. Yesterday she bought six which totaled about 120 U.S.
Problem is, you can't just visit for a few hours and haul 120 dollars worth of anything back, let alone bras.
But that wasn't all. I went into Old Navy and they had these sweatshirty things on sale for 3.99. Unbelievable, so I bought five.
And then there was underwear for my son Danny, and just before we left we whipped into the Gap and my wife bought two pairs of Capri pants for 11 dollars each.
This was a lot of stuff for a two hour visit, so we had to plan our strategy for get back across the border. With a little consultation from a clerk at Old Navy, we decided rather than lie completely and say we had nothing, we would claim the cheap things and cram the bras in the trunk underneath the thing that covers the spare tire.
Everything seemed fine as I approached the border - and when I volunteered to the fine gentleman in the booth that I had indeed bought some shirts which amounted to a grand total of 40 dollars he seemed satisfied.
But then it was obvious he was taking too much time and he was scribbling something on a piece of paper. And then he handed it to me. It was a yellow piece of paper, and he told me to pull ahead and make a sharp left and someone would inspect what I had bought.
Shit! What if they look in the trunk? Shit! They were going to find the tit-slings.
I pulled up to the office and I went inside with the sales slips hoping this would be enough, but unfortunately it wasn't enough. The guy inside told me to wait by the car and someone would come out to have a look at what I had bought.
As I went outside almost directly on my heels was an inspector and even though I opened the back door of the car to show him the bags I had claimed, he had something else in mind, he asked me to open the trunk. Shit! He was going to find the over-shoulder-boulder holders.
At that point my mind scattered. I had never been in this situation before and I didn't know what was going to happen. If he lifted the spare tire cover what would the consequences be? Would I be arrested? Or was it just a fine? And if it was a fine, how much is the fine? Jesus Christ, why did she need new boobie traps in the first place?
But then, as I opened the trunk, I heard a wonderful thing. "Freddie P?" I looked at the inspector and he had a big smile on his face.
"You're Freddie P. aren't ya"
"Yes" I said. "I'm Freddie P."
"Nice to meet you Fred" he said. "What are you up to these days?"
"Not much" I said. In my mind I was thinking, not much besides smuggling lingerie into Canada from the United States.
The inspector was a great guy, gracious and polite. He told me he'd been listening to me since the early 80's and he once went to a CFNY Wankee game in Lewiston, he loves Peter Griffin and he loved CFNY's music and he was just plain happy I'd stopped by. Then he glanced inside the trunk, but he never lifted the tire cover.
I was a free man, and Delyse escaped with her 12 cups. And I will never "not" declare anything again.
*Portions of the above are fictional to amuse the reader.