we were lazy about the weed. had an ounce of it for our trip from the south to montreal. in upstate ny, we ditch the bag at a friend's house, to be picked up upon our re-entry into the U.S.
we then decide, ehh, fuck cleaning the car out, the pot's gone, we'll be fine for the border inspection.
sure enough, at the cornwall crossing, we're the only car detained for inspection. and these canadian customs officials fucking GO TO TOWN. they're practically taking apart the damn car.
we overhear one of the guards, who is supervising two new rookies; "remember, if you even find a seed, it is enough for a formal arrest." we're getting kind of nervous. all those in-car bowls, there's gotta be something lying around on the floor.
then they find our rolling papers. shit. a real bull-dyke looking canadian guard approaches me.
"would you mind explaining to me what the purpose of these rolling papers are?"
"uh, yeah... i used to roll my own cigarettes. i guess i forgot those were in the car."
she rolls her eyes. a younger male customs guard next to us mutters "good answer."
they let us go though, with a stern warning not to be so stupid. we proceed to montreal and get lap dances and drink all night. but you know what?
STUPID FUCKING CANADIANS. they never even frisked us. i could have had a hello kitty backpack full of anthrax stuffed down my pants, they wouldn't have known shit. made me feel dumb for ditching the weed in n.y.
oh well, it was still a fun trip.
yer and i was wearing baggy pants at the time
;)