US Customs Port Alcan.  Early July, 2011.

“Are those your plates?” the customs officer asked.  “Yup!” was my reply with a smile as I handed him my passport.  The “Explore” plates had been going over quite well on the trip.

Key punches.  Waiting.  “You’ve been randomly chosen for a secondary inspection.  Please pull up and to the left.”

I pulled forward as directed and turned Sam off.  The customs officer checked under Sam’s hood, then continued walking around to the hitch-mount cargo container.

“How do you open this?” he asked me.

“Well… it would be easier if I just showed you.  Would you mind if I showed you?”

“Ok.”

I got out and walked around to the cargo box.  As I was fiddling with the lock, I said, “So, I thought it would be fun to play hockey while I was up here.”

The lid popped open, revealing my hockey gear bag.

The officer poked the bag with his finger and said, “Hockey, huh.”

“Yeah,” I replied, “and my sticks are in the back,” nodding towards the back seat.

The officer paused for a moment while looking at me, mulling over the situation.   Then he handed my passport back to me.  “Have a nice day, sir.”

“Thanks!”

Maybe he was a fellow hockey player.  Or maybe he just didn’t feel like digging through a bunch of smelly hockey gear.