I drove my Ford Econoline 150 to the Canadian border from the New York side and entered Canada late one evening. My intention was to drive through the night to get to Michigan. I liked to drive at night because there was less traffic. I was pretty good at staying awake all night based on my experience on the ambulance and my familiarity with the over-the-counter stimulants containing caffeine, which helped on such long drives. I’d used the stay-awake pharmaceuticals during my Omaha trip and had them at the ready for this one. At the border a female border agent stopped me to do the normal security measures. I told her I was just passing through Canada and would be driving on to Michigan. She nodded and asked me to pull over and park. That surprised me because the cars in front of me all drove off, but of course I did what she asked.

A short time later the same woman came up to my van and announced that she was going to inspect my vehicle. I shrugged and handed her my keys and she indicated she didn’t want them by turning to open the door to the back of the van. She went through my bags, first aid kit and tool kit as I stood outside. Next she headed for the front seat and went through the glove box. I couldn’t see what she was doing and after a few minutes she hurried past me with something in her hand.

A more senior-looking male colleague and the female inspector came out to see me. I could tell he was more senior because he had a lot more accoutrements on his uniform.

He informed me that I had drugs and drug paraphernalia that would not be allowed into Canada and that they were going to do a complete, detailed search of the car and a strip search.

After the shock of hearing “strip search” wore off and as they kept on talking, it became clear to me that the female border guard felt that the hemostats hanging from the rear view mirror were drug paraphernalia used to smoke marijuana and the over-the-counter stay-awake pills were illegal in Canada. I was going to be there a while.

I was invited into the border security offices and led to a windowless room with a bunch of chairs and told to strip in front of three other male officers. I took off all my clothes and each article was visually inspected and rummaged through in great detail. They also told me that several people would be doing the same thing to the contents of my car. I tried to explain the story of the hemostats that needed to be returned to the Anatomy lab and that when working long hours and driving a lot of nights the caffeine pills were common over-the-counter remedies often used in the States. They were not listening. They were pulling out the lint from my pants pockets.

Once completely naked, I was told to hold my hands above my head and turn around three times. As I did this, one of the guys was pulling on the sole of my sneakers trying to see if something was hidden in them. Almost in unison the three fellows then stood, told me to get dressed, and meet them at the front desk. I got dressed and found one of the guys at the desk filling out some paperwork. I asked what I should do now and he informed me in a stern, authoritative voice that we would know when the inspection of the car was done.

I kept thinking that the last time I was in a police station like this the cops and I were having a good time talking about transvestite muggers. This, however, was much more serious. They thought I was some kind of druggie or drug runner. I knew they would not find anything, but I did not know how serious the “paraphernalia” was that they found. Would I go to jail or be sent back to the US? It seemed almost sure I was not going to be let into the country.

Eventually the female border guard came in and she looked upset, which worried me. What could she have found that made her so upset?

“We did not find anything!” she said and walked away.

“You’re not allowed to bring paraphernalia or these drugs into the country,” said the remaining border guard. “However, there are no charges for having these on your person and you are free to go.” They confiscated my “drug paraphernalia,” which was not for illicit purposes.

As I left, I realized that the Anatomy lab was never going to see those hemostats again. After all of this, however, I did not need any caffeine to stay awake. I was too afraid that someone would conclude that I was some kind of felon and re-arrest me. I was so thrilled to cross back into the USA and did not feel the miles and hours of exhausted driving that followed as I made my way to Michigan State University.

I had been strip searched and my car practically taken apart because of about 10 caffeine pills and a medical instrument that I used as a medical instrument, but others had assumed to be drug paraphernalia. The suit and tie I had brought along for my interview were taken out, rummaged through, and put back into my suitcase crumpled into a ball. I didn’t discover this until I got to the hotel and unpacked. I went to my Michigan State University job interview in a wrinkled and disheveled set of clothes because of a strange misunderstanding. I eventually figured out that the female border guard looked upset because she had assumed she would discover some serious offense like massive quantities of drugs, but did not. It must have disappointed her that I was a law-abiding citizen. She likely saw the hemostats when she sat in the front seat during the inspection and assumed them to be paraphernalia. When it came right down to it, those hemostats were there because I had planned to be a good citizen and return them to the anatomy lab. If I had decided to keep them and add them to my first aid kit (the only use I would have for them), I would not have been inspected.

Despite this inauspicious beginning, my visit to Michigan State went very well. You can be sure that when I drove back home, I took the all-USA route. Spring at Michigan State University was very pretty with lots of green and a picturesque river, called the Red Cedar River, flowing though the middle of campus. There were hundred-plus year old buildings and a nice mixture of newer construction. The sports facilities were extensive and everyone seemed to be on top of their game.

I met Clint Thompson, who would be my boss, and he was a diminutive guy with tons of experience. He was very focused on helping the athlete and the team to be able to achieve their potential, which resonated with me. He liked my ambulance and EMT training and my strong science background; including the Anatomy class. He encouraged me to complete the requirements to become a certified athletic trainer but assured me that being certified was not a job requirement. He could help me get certified as a trainer. He outlined the scholarship I would get and what would be expected over the 2 years of the MS program in Athletic training. This would include being given the opportunity to do research in athletic training and take classes on proper research methods. I said that sounded good and asked him to put it in writing and I would get back to him. I liked what I was seeing.

Even though I knew no one in East Lansing, Michigan, and had no ties to the university, I drove home feeling that it was a place I could fit in. And I told myself I could even tolerate living for two years in an icebox.

Less than a week later I got a letter of offer from Clint and the details of the offer were far better than any other offer I had. I committed to Michigan State University to start as a GA in athletic training the following fall.