Why Traveling is Awful

I arrived in Chicago yesterday after my whirlwind return home. I loved seeing everyone while I was home but getting across the border is really annoying. Collectively, I've spent literally hours pulling together the necessary paperwork proving I am who I say I am and that I'm really a student etc. Apparently, this was all a waste of time.

My sister and I left for the airport a tad late (my fault, but let's not talk about that...) but with plenty of time to make my plane. We answered the usual inane questions at the border (citizenship, purpose of crossing the border, anything to declare, etc). I show the border dick (BD) all of my paperwork and he takes FOREVER to read it over. When he was done, he hands us a white piece of paper and tells us to pull over!

They put us in a little holding cell fitting for criminals and made us sit there. At this point I have 50 min left to get to the airport. I, of course, am furious and cursing up a storm. My sister, usually the angrier of us, is remarkably calm. Eventually BD comes back and asks us how we're related (what does that matter?) and then asks me what school I go to - twice. Then he asked me why I was going to the states. In my bitchiest tone I replied, "I'm TRYING to get to the airport so I can go back to school."

Then he gave us back our ID and said we could go. They didn't search the car, my suitcase, call the school, nothing. So what was the point of all that??

We got back on the road and my sister literally gunned it at 140/kph to the airport. I ran inside with 20 min to go. When I checked my bag they said the airline couldn't guarantee my bag would be on the plane because I was so late. When I asked what the chances were the chick said in HER bitchiest tone, "I don't know. I don't have a crystal ball and I don't play the lottery." (???).

By the time I made it through security and to my gate, the plane was already boarding. I spent the next 1.5 hours figuring out how long I was willing to stay at the airport waiting for my bag to arrive. Fortunately, in un-Skelena fashion, my bag DID make the plane and I picked it up right when I arrived. Unfortunately it weighed about 50 billion pounds so dragging it on and off the El/the bus was not pleasant. Fortunately a random person (RP) helped me carry it down a flight of stairs. On the way home the bus driver and RP told me how much they loved Canada, Toronto/the falls specifically. That was a nice welcome "home."