On
the evening of May 10th, 2024, when many others
were
preparing to watch the most intense visible Aurora Borealis and solar
storm in decades, I was in custody of the US border patrol on the US
side of the Canadian border.
Going
through customs, it would be easy to argue, is no one’s
favorite travel-related activity.
It’s
essential, it seems, but few of us look forward to it.
I
was radioactive.
But
this time it wasn’t a metaphor
My
wife and I were, for most of the time, the only people not of color
in the rapidly growing line in the waiting room before a long counter
with at least twenty desk stations.
Most
of those set apart, or “chosen” were East Indian or
Asian. Eventually a few Ukrainian speaking clusters of families
joined a crowd of at least fifty of us undergoing “secondary
inspections”.
Behind
that desk of at least twenty desk work stations, there were, for
almost two hours, a maximum of two border patrol staff actively at
work; most of the time both staff were working with a young Ukrainian
man with shoulder-length hair attempting to walk across the border
into the US.
As
a white US citizen, barely over 70, I didn’t fit the stereotype
casting-call of those with me waiting for official clearance to enter
the US, and for me at least, to go home.
The
instigation for my pull-out and closer inspection had nothing to do
(presumably) with my ethnicity, skin tone, citizenship, background,
appearance, criminal record or presumed intentions.
The
purpose for my “secondary inspection” was literally all
in my head.
The
day before my border crossing, I had a medical brain scan at
Seattle’s Harborview Medical Center which involved an injection
of radioactive materials to highlight potential areas for further
study.
I
was told that the radioactive elements had a 13-hour half-life and
would leave my system within a few days.
The
doctor assured me that I should feel no side effects – but to
call them if I did.
Somehow
I believed him, even as he brought out a normal sized syringe –
with a beer can-sized lead casing around it – and proceeded to
inject me with whatever radiation-infused concoction the medical
procedure required.
My
wife and I had a few days free after the brain scan, so we decided to
take a quick trip to Canada.
We
had no problems crossing the border in a northerly direction, but on
our return, my cranial radiation level triggered ultra-sensitive
monitoring systems several car lengths from the actual border.
A
visibly alarmed set of burly customs agents in full body armor
surrounded our car as we went through the usual routines of a
standard border crossing.
And
then we were pulled aside.
They
took our car keys, and then our passports.
And
we waited. And waited.
After
45 minutes or so, one staff member called us aside and scanned us
with a Geiger counter. My wife, of course, was cleared, but he
described me as “very hot”.
I
told him about my procedure and that any radiation was (literally) in
my head, but he was not amused. (Actually, he was amused, but still
diligent).
For
whatever reason, it took more than an hour to clear us for release
and departure.
In
that hour, they took our vehicle through a car-wash sized screening
system (visible from the primary border crossing area).
We
had crossed that border at that point many times previously. Our
earlier crossings had been cordial and efficient.
This
particular crossing inspired our awe and, at some levels,
vulnerability and even a few slivers of paranoia.
The
level of alert monitoring was an inspiration. Being caught in the web
of national security was comforting and horrifying at the same time.
Our
faith in the vigilance of those protecting our borders was largely
confirmed, and as the doctor told me, I felt little to no physical
side effects, but the experience as a whole, was, to put it mildly,
exhausting.
You’d
think that medical procedures like mine would have been relatively
routine, but then again, for my level of radiation to be so high that
it triggered atmospheric monitoring systems was unnerving as well.
I
had no noticeable physical or medical side effects, but neither I nor
my doctor factored in geo-magnetic storms or international
complications. Atmospheric disruptions in the Earth's magnetosphere,
resonance with the radioactive elements surging through my blood and
brain, heightened terrorism alerts and wars in multiple locations
have, if nothing else made for an interesting weekend in the Puget
Sound region.
A
visit by a sitting president only added to the active variables.
We
won’t be doing much international travel for the time being,
but as a cautionary tale to all, consider this a warning for those
with medical procedures and travel plans. And, as those of us who
cross the border relatively often have learned from experience,
always allow extra time when you cross any international boundary,
you never know who may be in front of you or what complications may
emerge from otherwise, under normal circumstances, routine
activities.
Footnote;
It was probably my imagination, but I was sure that I felt some kind
of sparkling resonance with the prevailing cosmic solar storm
impulses. It seemed to me that some kind of a Marvel comic superpower
should have been my reward for such a strange set of encounters with
internal, galactic and governmental forces.
