[The Laptop Story Doesn't Do It Justice: What crossing the border has REALLY turned into]
For those just tuning in here, I live in the state of Michigan. As such, I am surrounded on two sides (north and east, a little south if you want to get trivia-esque) by Canada. While I haven't gone recently (a few years) due to a lack of funds, earlier on this decade I would go to Canada when I had the chance - especially when I spent a couple of years in northern Michigan in the tiny city of Sault Sainte Marie, MI, which is a stone's throw from its twin city of the same name in Canada. The border crossing process had usually been rather simple for me, with the most that I got asked is "Where'd you go? How long were you there? Bringing back lots of money? Alright have a good one." I suppose it was a bit naive of me to think that things would go south in the couple of years since I've been to Canada, especially in lieu of revelations that Homeland Security can take your laptop at the border if they feel like it.
Like most things in life you stay naive of it, happily nested in a world of "it can't/won't happen to me" until - sure enough - it does.
My purpose to travel to Windsor, Ontario, seemed simple and innocent enough: it was a Saturday, I was bored, and I wanted to take some pictures of the Detroit skyline to satisfy my off and on desire to pretend I'm good at taking pictures. Didn't plan on going much of anywhere, buying much of anything, or even being there that long. It was, quite literally, something to do. You know, getting out of the house and all of that good stuff.