I like trains. Anyone who knows me well knows this fact about me. So it was with a small bubble of excitment that I boarded a train at Penn Station, New York; bound for Toronto, Canada. A mere 12 hours away. Coffee, bagel and New York Times in hand, I was prepared.
The autumnal colours were beautiful as we followed the river north. Early morning cloud hung low over the water with picture perfect houses peeping through occasionally.
Tom -the Londoner kept me entertained with stories of being hit on by naked cowgirls in Times Square, and he bought us snacks with the $100 bill he found in the back of a taxi on his way to the station that morning. We celebrated crossing the border into Canada with high fives, hot dogs and Canadian beer.
The Canadian immigration officer was so cute I tried to stuff him in my bag, which was unfortunately too full of clothing to fit him. I just wanted to keep him so everytime I opened my bag he would pop out and cry 'Welcome to Canada' in his perky blue-eyed way.
1 comment:
what is it with canadian immigration people? they are so wholesome looking eh?
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