Being different. It's one of the things that binds us as a community. Different from the social norm, different from one another.
But as I found out last night - after three hours of hell and refusal into the country - the Canadian border guards don't share this enthusiasm.
At the crossing - on the way to the White Trash party
guard: Why are you coming into Canada?
me: To visit a friend.
guard: What's the name of this friend?
me: Dylan Cole. Sorry Dylan - yours was the first to pop into my head.
guard: How do you know this friend?
me: We're in the same community of artists
guard: What's the name of this community?
me: Burning Man
At which point the conversation stopped. The guard pulled out a white slip, wrote "Burning Man" on it, and asked me to pull over into one of the stalls.
Differences. Mine's subtle. I'm a successful businessman, husband of 23 years, father of two incredible kids, and an active member of my community. Normal except for one thing. I dislike the appearance of success. The outward "I've got it and you don't" facade that you see (and might expect) from someone with my history.
It's my differences that went wrong. They don't like to see someone who says they're a CEO of a software company driving an 85 chevy van, with a bunch of white trash clothes in the back. They don't like that I enjoy working on my own vehicles, and like to carry around tools when they break. They didn't like that my van has a bed in back, where I could live.
I was guilty of the appearance of going to Canada to look for work.
For the next 3 hours, they ripped my van apart piece by piece. They accused me of things my mother wouldn't think of. Naked pictures on my iPhone didn't help, but I'm a lifecaster. And a burner. All respectful images.
And in the end, when they couldn't find anything, they turned me around and told me to go back to the US. They handed me a paper telling me to bring proof of wealth and stability next time I try crossing.
I'm proud of being a burner. I like that I'm accepted for who I am, and not what I look like. But at the border there isn't time for that. They're taught to make decisions based on appearance.
Next time I cross, I'll "get ready" like I do for any other party.
Only my costume will be "normal", and I won't mention Burning Man.
What was I thinking?
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