We arrived at the Canadian border crossing at 5:30 am and were asked to go inside. For the next six hours we sat in a waiting room as dogs and guards went through every inch of the van and trailer. We learned that if they did decide to let us enter we would be given a $350 fee just for being performers, though we were going to do a children's benefit. The primary searcher was a fairly plump fella that seemed to get off on going "by the book," and continued to be baffled by what we were. He meticulously continued in his search. The great cause of commotion was not the case of rubber chickens or the seven thousand colored condoms, but instead the four cases of books. Okay, so they were a bit upset that we were trying to not pay them taxes, but they were quite frightened by the subject matter--or at least the cover--of the books. Every book's cover was xeroxed and supposedly sent to their censors for research. Stephanie and I were separately removed from the room for private interrogation as to our purposes for traveling. The reason that kept us from easy passage, in their own words, overheard from behind a nearly closed door, "They have an agenda, and the Cirkus is their medium." They could, however, not figure out what that agenda could possibly be. We were told that they had the right to keep the books but they were going to graciously let us take them back to the US. And with that we were handed a "Refused by Canada" slip.

We turned around and were again searched, this time by the US customs, and it was only for an hour or so. At US customs we were taught by an ex-marine, now customs official, that a person could kill someone else with a newspaper. The ex-marine was the only US customs official with a friendly and humor filled disposition, otherwise, the US customs stay was defined by no bathrooms, no cigarette breaks, no checking on your vehicle, and we had not even entered Canada! So we went to Blaine, Washington. The search for a home for the books began, and then as the sat in a park in misery, a man came up and offered us his help. He had to do about an hours worth of work first. So we waited some more. One hour later we were heading to his warehouse by the docks to store the books. The question as to our ability to trust this stranger was resolved by predestination. He was a ferry operator and his first boat and the name of his business was Bindlestiff, Inc.

Our Bindlestiff saint and guide showed us another border crossing that had a much shorter line only a mile down the road. Once again we were told to park the vehicle and come inside. Our previous plump inspection agent had changed posts and was now at the new one with us. He decided to personally take our vehicle. This time he took Stephanie with him as he re-searched the vehicle even more thoroughly than the first. He discovered a few firecrackers which he soon forgot after discovering a 'zine that Lorraine had just happened to have in her bag. The 'zine depicted animal love, necrophilia and a few other desires of a polysexual bend. He also discovered a video that had to be viewed, and with that he came back inside. The video was watched and ordained by the Canadian government, the 'zine however had to remain at the border and 1) be immediately destroyed, or 2) be kept until officials decided whether they would destroy it or give it back (the latter would take an extra hour) We chose #1 and paid the $350 dollar performer entrance fee and entered Canada