I’ll be the first to admit that I occasionally use the slightest bit of hyperbole to make my stories just a little bit more entertaining.
But seriously, this all went down exactly like this:
The last time I had the distinct pleasure of crossing the United States border (after waiting in the American Citizens line and being lippy about same-sex couples), the Customs Official leaned back in his roll-y chair before he casually said, and I am not making this up: “What’s goin’ on?”
That was my first clue that this was going to be a curious experience, because usually Customs Officials only say, “What was the purpose of your visit / where are you headed / what did you spend $50 on / you seriously spent $50 on books / have a nice trip or stay.”
Perhaps addled by free wine from Porter, I decided to reply to his question with: “Nothin’ much. What’s goin’ on with you? Keeping the America borders safe from terrorists?”
Then he looked at, nay, SCRUTINIZED every. single. page. of. my. passport. Which, as you may know if you have met me, is full of stamps from going to and from Canada. As well as a *gasp* bilingual student visa.
So then he says: “What’s up with Canada?”
And I said: “That’s what I’m trying to find out with all of my schooling.”
He said: “Do you go to school in Canada?”
I said, more or less: “Yes.”
He said: “What do you study?”
I said: “Well, I study Canadian Studies, appropriately enough.”
He said: “How long do you have left in school?”
I said: “One year, hopefully. I’m finishing my dissertation.”
He said: “What’s the plan there? What are you going to do with a doctoral degree in Canadian Studies?”
I said: “I’m going to be a trophy wife.”
He said: “Welcome back to the United States of America.”
Then he handed me my passport and my stamped customs form and I went on my merry way.
Coming soon to a YouTube channel near you: PhD Trophy Wives, the Musical.