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Possibly the final chapter in this has ended.
Kate has landed as an Permanent Resident.
I went and collected the rental car (Chrysler 200, the guy offered me a BMW something for 'just $15 more' but for a $32 a day rental, no!) and off we went down to Niagara Falls. The CIC website seemed to recommend the Rainbow Bridge (which is the one right next to the Falls) as it has a proper office there, not just a border crossing. The lady on the phone had told Kate she didn't need to enter the USA, just to 'do a u-turn and come back'. Well, the Rainbow Bridge doesn't allow for that. You make a left turn as you're passing Casino Niagara and Planet Hollywood, and you're on the bridge. Then you're in a traffic jam waiting to enter New York State.
As soon as it came our turn, the guy signalled for us to stop, closed the gate on his lane, put a cone out and wandered off. Oh. Shift change? Yes. A much larger US Border Patrol guy came out, kicked the gate back open, threw the cone aside and beckoned us forward. As we drove up an array of cameras (at least half a dozen) photographed us from every angle. I gave him the passports and started to explain what we were doing, but he told me to hang on.
After about two minutes of us just sitting there while he was turned away inside his little booth, he repeated back to me what I'd said. I confirmed it was correct, that we didn't want to enter the US, but to turn around and go back into Canada to 'land' Kate. He pulled out his radio and announced that he had a 'red four door with two occupants en route'. He then directed us to go and park the car over there, and to go into the building behind him, and up to the second floor. He retained our passports.
Oh.
Car parked, walked into the building. The place was crawling with border patrol guys, all of them enormous and armed. NO CELLULAR PHONE USAGE IN THIS AREA. Up in the elevator.
Metal benches in a waiting room with a hastily printed sign which read 'Take a seat, we will call your name as soon as possible. Obama's picture hung on the wall. Romney ranted on a TV suspended from the ceiling. Numerous people from varied backgrounds sat around the room. On the other side of the glass was a large room with several counters. Kate was becoming anxious and very chatty.
After about 20 or so minutes, when some people left and more arrived, a large border guy emerged from the other side of the glass and called Kate over.
"What are you trying to do, Kate?," he asked. It was more of an accusation than a question. She explained. He told her to go downstairs and he would come down and give her 'what Canada needed'.
Downstairs, Kate comes out of the elevator and goes straight to the reception desk where another three meaty, bored looking border guys were leaning.
"I'm Kate Shaw!"
"And?"
He told you to sit down, Kate, so come and sit down, and stop disturbing the men. As soon as we sat down a fourth guard appeared from nowhere and demanded to know why we were sitting there and not upstairs. We explained we'd been told to sit here. By someone upstairs? Yes, by someone upstairs. Fine then. The guy then gave the most friendly, cheerful smile to some kids leaving the office with their family.
Eventually our border guy came out and beckoned us to follow him outside.
"Here's what you're going to do. You're going to get back in your vehicle and drive it over here to me. I will return your documents to you and open the gate and you'll go back across the bridge to Canada."
So we did. A special gate was opened allowing us to leave the compound and go straight back across the bridge. The guy handed us back our passports along with a fudged 'Refusal of Entry' form... no reason is given (all the tickable boxes aren't), it must have been the only way they could produce something official looking with Kate's name on it. We drove through the gate, paid the toll, back across the bridge.
At the Canadian Border booth, a CBSA guard asked me to remove my sunglasses (he kept his, and his hat, on) and immediately another camera took our pictures. I handed over the documents again and explained what we were doing. He asked if we had any food, firearms or commercial goods. Nope. Did Kate have any goods following? No. Are you sure? When you land you are given one opportunity to declare them and not have to pay duty. No sir, I have already done that myself when I resumed residence, and have the forms already filled out and stamped by CBSA.
That's fine, then, please pull into a parking space under the awning, go into the building through the green doors. He handed us a small yellow slip of paper.
Inside the building three bored border guards sat at a large desk. The first called us over, took one look at the form and said we had to go see the immigration folks on the other side of the desk. There were no immigration folks on the other side of the desk. About a dozen people stood impatiently around a 'form line here' sign waiting.
Eventually some came, but they went over to airport-style desks facing the road. A tourbus full of Chinese tourists arrived and the guards processed them. Then all but one of them vanished. Eventually some guards sat down at the desk. Three young men were called up and tried to be funny with the guards, refusing to answer questions about why they'd tried to enter Canada. The guard asked if they'd prefer to be put into a cell. More co-operation was forthcoming, but it didn't look good for them. A young man and an older looking relative kept being called up, asked more questions and then were told to 'go and wait over there until I call you back'. A fat woman in a green shirt arrived, sat heavily down into the chairs and complained to her friend every time someone was called up who wasn't her.
"I don't know how this line works, those people were at the front but those guys were over there and they're dealing with them first? What's with this line?"
After the best part of 45 minutes, we were called up where a scary looking CBSA guard with starting eyes and a shaved head was surprisingly pleasant and asked Kate to write down her current address for her Permanent Resident card to be sent to. He then told us to go 'wait over there' which we did. There wasn't really anywhere to wait. All the chairs were taken, the window was occupied by some large branches screwed together with fake foliage glued on, and there was gum on the floor. Outside, Cole Trickle's stock car sat next to an old Checker Cab on Planet Hollywood's driveway. A giant Hershey Kiss sat atop part of Casino Niagara. On sidewalk, a smaller one with arms and legs stood by the entrance, and a giant Hershey bar emerged from the sidewalk as if the Earth itself was eating it. Compared to the high fences and gates of the US border crossing, this was very pleasant and civil. You could just make a break for it. Kate noted that the smaller Kiss wanted a Hug too.
The younger man and the older relative were called back one last time, some sort of conclusion was reached and they left. The nice, new RV outside was replaced by a horrible, crappy old one. I wondered why RVs are available in any colour you like so long as it's white or beige.
The guy called us back over, explained that Kate was now landed and a Permanent Resident, and could now go and apply for a Social Insurance Number, Driver's Licence and Health card. He folded up the enormous 'confirmation of permanent residence' form as best as he could and stapled it into her UK passport.
"We're done," he said, "Welcome to Canada."
Outside, we had to wait several minutes while the car next to ours was searched by two officers. As we left, the Niagara Falls Bridge Commission tried to get us to fill in a survey on our 'day trip' to the US which I informed them lasted all of 30 minutes.
But that's it, it's done now. Woo!
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