Think I'm kidding? Just check out my press credentials here. My buddy Eric over at Quik-e-Print whipped this up for me.
I wanted him to whip me up a passport too, as the border is a little stickier than it used to be, but that's where Eric drew the line.
"Fucking around with the National Post is one thing," he said, "Uncle Sam is quite another."
Thanks for nothing, old pal.
So I'm thinking I'll cross at Detroit, tell them I'm headed for a Tiger's game. That should work. If not I'll replicate my last unofficial border crossing.
That's when me and Junior took a pedal boat across the St. Clair River. That was pretty much a cake-walk, except for those terrifying moments when some joker in a 60 foot Bertram was bearing down on us at about 30 knots. At the last moment he obligingly steered around us.
So, way more than one way to skin a cat, as they say, and one way or another you'll be reading my reports from Tampa.
Who the hell skins cats anyway?
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