I have a patheti-sad story about my most recent border crossing.
Mike and I had just broken up, and I was kind of a mess about it. I went up to visit Tania and to get the rest of my crap that I'd left at his house, which I got at the end of the weekend and then had to hit the road and get back in time for work on Monday. I think I left TO around 4pm, which was going to put me home at 1 if I didn't stop at all, but I was already emotionally drained and I knew it was not going to be good.
I came back through Windsor/Detroit and the border guard was a grandfatherly type with a huge mustache. He asked the purpose of my visit and I burst into tears. Trying to talk over huge snotty sobs, I managed to choke out, "I had to go get my stuff back from my ex-boyfriend." He talked to me for a couple minutes, trying to calm me down, and then when it looked like I was safe to drive again, he let me go through. I only clearly remember one thing he said, which was "You know there are thousands of single guys that live a lot closer to you than Toronto."