U.S. Customs and Border Protection – Rainbow Bridge Port of Entry — Local services in City of Niagara Falls

I visited Niagara-on-the-lake for my 30th birthday with 2 gal pals. On our last day we wanted to stop at goat island before going back to the Buffalo airport. Instead we were held by CBP for 7 hours while they copied all of the information on our phones (including nudes photos they said, but they would not let us erase them) over into their system. We were not told why we were selected or even what information they were taking from our phones. They just gave us a paper that basically said it could be any reason from us being on a list to just because they feel like it. (It was likely due to one of my friends being Arab, although born and raised in the US). We were not given a timeline when they took us into the facility, and despite asking several times they still said nothing to us. We were not allowed to reschedule our flights that they caused us to miss. It was freezing in the CBP building and we were told that we were not allowed to leave, grab clothes out of our car, or even stand outside. What we were able to do during those 7 hours was witness the blatant racism of the CBP agents towards many of the people coming in. We watched Indian families get screamed at for looking for an elevator. We also watched some 20something year old white frat bros get held for a short time because one of them was using a passport that had been reported lost or stolen. With no additional paperwork or identification the kid just told them he didn’t remember reporting it lost and after about 20 minutes they let him and his buddy leave. After 7 hours they had a shift change and the new person on shift brought us our phones and keys back and let us leave. We asked for documentation of what had been done and the guy said he had no idea, there was just a note on our things when he clocked in that said we were ready to go. Lord knows how long that was sitting there. This experience cost me hundreds of dollars, an entire day of my life, and left me feeling so shameful of the...

As I approach the border, it's like stepping onto the stage for a performance where the audience is just one - the border agent. I'm the protagonist of a story where the plot hinges on my ability to charm and persuade. With each question, I weave my narrative, hoping to captivate my audience of one. It's a high-stakes interview where the job is entry to a new land, and I'm selling my most authentic self.

I reminisce about my younger days, when a dash of youthful charisma might have tipped the scales in my favor. Now, my gray hair doesn't quite sparkle under the interrogation lights, and my smile doesn't seem to work the magic it once did. I stand there, a seasoned traveler, my passport a mosaic of stamps, each one a testament to my wanderlust.

The young ones, with their carefree laughs and light luggage, pass by like ships in the night, barely pausing at the border that seems to stretch out before me like a chasm. I can't help but feel like an old novel on a shelf, full of stories yet often overlooked for the shiny new releases.

Yet, there's a certain camaraderie in the shared glances with fellow travelers, each carrying their own silent epics, their eyes reflecting tales of joy, frustration, and the surreal comedy of this shared human experience. We're all actors in this grand play of border crossing, each with a role that sometimes feels scripted by an unseen hand.

In the end, when I finally step across the threshold, it's with a sense of triumph, a small victory in the narrative of my life. I can't help but wonder what the future holds for this ritual of passage. Will technology render it a quaint memory, a relic of a bygone era? For now, I savor the plot twist of being allowed to continue my journey, ready to dine on the next chapter of...

My wife and I visited Niagra Falls, Ontaria for a few days last week. Entry into Canada was fairly smooth. The Canadian agent was professional and pleasant and we were through in just over a minute. However, on Wednesday, we decided to go back to the American side to visit Fort Niagra and Niagra State Park to take the Maid of the Mist boat ride. We left our B&B at 9"15 am, and found ourselves in what we thought was a short line to enter the US. there were about 10 cars in front of us in our lane (there were four lanes open to clear Customs. What should have been a fairly smooth process turned into a 45 minute ordeal. Apparently the US Customs agent in our lane elected to perform a full 5 minute check of each car in front of us, including having each car open its trunk for inspection. Now, I know some folks will say he was just being diligent. However the lane to our left was clearing three-four cars to our every one. When we finally became the next car in lane to go through, a young women came out and placed a cone behind the car being checked. Groaning, we said, what now. But, fortunately, she replaced the agent who had been performing the exacting checks of all the cars in front of us. When we entered the lane this new female agent was very pleasant. She took our passports, verified our US nationality, asked if we had anything to declare, and cleared us all of 30 seconds. Later that afternoon, when we returned to Canada, we again experienced a friendly, efficient and quick entry into Canada. To be honest given to negative press about US/Canada relations, I had expected a much more difficult experience entering Canada. That was...