In the background beyond Hobox is the Canadian border entering from Montana, a long horrible northern patch of Montana, after the magnificence of Glacier National Park. I will catch up with my National Park Tour soon, but as I am still in Canada, I will update you on the strange entrance I made a few days ago.
“A Winnipeg man is sitting in a New York jail cell, accused of a mysterious attack on a Spanish tourist while living under a bogus identity he secretly stole years ago from a friend.” Winnepeg Free Press 8/10/2012
An old friend of mine who was a google fanatic when google first started and loved googling his friends, once noted that there are in fact tons of Chris Finks and one was accused of murder somewhere in the NW.“SALT LAKE CITY (AP) 10/5/98 — A man suspected of abducting his malnourished 21-month- old son from a hospital more than two weeks ago was arrested Monday in a remote, mountainous portion of Montana. Christopher Fink, 23, was taken into custody in Stillwater County in south- central Montana. His wife, Kyndra, his young son, David, and a newborn child also were in custody, the FBI said. Cindy Lyle, spokeswoman for St. Vincent Hospital in Billings, Mont., said the Fink babies were to be airlifted to the hospital. Kyndra Fink was to be brought by ground ambulance. Lyle had no information on their conditions. The FBI has said the Finks believed David was “the Christ Child” and were feeding him only lettuce and watermelon in hopes of keeping him pure.”
While that certainly sounds like something I’d do, I am in fact not that Chris Fink.
You can probably guess where I’m going with this. I was asked to park and come inside where my passport would be returned to me. Others were there, so I just thought they were being weirdly thorough with everyone. I waited for a long time. All the border patrol agents looked under their brows at me, none being polite, and several mean, though they were all smiles with everyone else. That’s often the case for me, looking like a terrorist, so it didn’t bother me too terribly much (the usual tears on the inside was all). The main dude took me aside and asked a number of frightening and intimidating questions and told me to stay put. No handcuffs yet.
Some time later, he came out with my passport and asked what my social security number was. When I rattled it off, he made a face and gesture that master actors would kill to study. It was both Canada-friendly, cop-strong, and painfully disappointed. “Not you,” he said (with that face) and handed me the document. He turned as he did it, but remembering the story, I asked, “Is there a bad guy with my name?” He said, “Yeah, not you. Have a good trip.” And I was off.
Stay Tuned : TOMORROW —
Yellowstone National Park vs Glacier National Park
p.s. Later that day, hours after entering Canada and a couple more downers in Calgary …
I shot my first African runway show in a mall (seriously!) and my day was saved!