The Three-Day Journal of a Bureaucrasher on the Road, Part One:
Five a.m. on Friday Scott Dorbert and I finished loading our camping gear into the Jeep Liberty, and left to pick up a fellow crasher, who was waiting for us at the office of the LP-Metro Milwaukee. Half an hour later, we were on the road, ready to begin the 660 mile trek from Milwaukee, WI to Peter Jaworski’s house in Orono, Ontario. I planned our departure so that we’d be arriving in Ann Arbor just after noon, in hopes that we could meet up with some UMichigan ‘crashers in time for lunch. Unfortunately though, I hadn’t been able to get in touch with anyone who could make it.
We’d initially decided to scrap the UMichigan detour, but twenty minutes before we left the house, Scott & I changed our minds and decided to make the most of it. I made a last-minute visit to the Bureaucrash website to download and print everything that a guerilla activist could possibly need for an uninvited descent onto a foreign college campus. I grabbed my pocket-stapler and a roll of tape, and added them to the gear in the truck.
Seven hours later, we arrived in Ann Arbor. After asking some of the locals for directions to the student union, we found our way to campus, and wandered up the strip looking for a decent place to eat, stopping intermittently to post the “Earth First…” and “Politics Hurt” fliers that I’d downloaded. We found a small sandwich shop, and quickly learned all about Aaron’s theory on eating out, “find the cheapest thing on the menu, and order it”. We also discovered that he doesn’t like giving his credit card to strangers (waitresses), so we put his meal on my card instead. Very educational.
After lunch, we spent another hour and a half wandering around campus, hanging more fliers as we went. I’d printed the flyers on some semi-gloss printing paper that I always keep on hand just for such emergencies (you can get it real cheap at Office Depot, if you look for the off-brand stuff); the flyers stood out brilliantly among the dozens of others, and as I walked back down the strip, it was hard not to notice that Bureaucrash had been there.
We got back on the road at about 3:30 with our sites set on the Detroit/Windsor border-crossing. When we arrived, the border guard asked us where we were going, and what business we had there. I explained that we were a group of young, anti-government Bureaucrash activists traveling to a libertarian seminar just east of Toronto. Surprisingly, we were waved through without further question. (Maybe I did explain our intentions a bit more subtly.) This worked out just fine for Scott, who had “forgotten” to declare the carton of cigarettes he had in his backpack; the cost which in Ontario is roughly $7.00 per pack, over 75% of which is tacked on by federal and provincial taxes.
The Ambassador bridge, which connects Detroit to Windsor, is the busiest border crossing in North America. It’s said that roughly 35% of the $1.5 billion in trade that crosses the US/Canadian border each day, crosses right there. Coincidentally, it’s also the only privately-owned border crossing between the two nations. Traffic was tight due to road construction, but we made it through without too much of a delay, stopping for gas when we reached the Canadian side.
We discovered quickly that Canada, though often thought of by Americans as simply an extension of our northern border, is indeed just “foreign” enough to remind you that you’re not at home anymore. The language (at least in Ontario) is of course the same, and I didn’t have any trouble converting from gallons to litres (even though they do spell it funny), but paying $52 to fill up the tank did freak me out just a little bit. I had no idea what the US/Canadian $ exchange rate was, and was only somewhat comforted by the fact that Bureaucrash was covering our fuel costs. We pulled out of the station, passing through two intersections with flashing green traffic signals (having absolutely no idea what they signified), and got back on the road toward Toronto.
We pulled in to Toronto around 9:30 local time, and found a small pizza restaurant to grab some dinner. I was sort-of surprised to find that the restaurant didn’t take American money. I guess I really shouldn’t have been – I mean, we don’t usually take Canadian money in the states – but still it caught me off guard. Scott & Aaron both had Canadian currency, so they were set. The guy running the shop didn’t know the exchange rate, and so we decided that four dollars American sounded fair. Close enough.
Refueled by the pizza, we got back in the Jeep all fired up and ready to make the last hour of the trip east to Orono. It was only then that I realized that the directions I’d downloaded from MapQuest only went as far as Toronto. I had directions to get us from the Orono exit off the highway to our destination, but as for getting from Toronto to Orono, we were at a loss. None of the locals had even heard of the place. After about an hour of unsuccessfully asking directions in the predominantly Caribbean neighborhood we were in, we decided to get back on the highway and head East. I figured if we hit the Atlantic, we’d know we went too far.
Fortunately, our guess paid off. We had decided on the correct eastbound highway out of Toronto, and arrived at the Jaworski residence at just after 12:30 local time. Tentatively I knocked on the door, not certain yet that we were in the right place. We were greeted warmly by the whole family -- Peter, his sister Agata, and their mom & dad, all of whom, as best I can tell, were just about to head off to bed. We sat out on the patio for about an hour, enjoying the conversation, a much-needed beer, and the warm rural air. By that point the 18 hours of driving had started to take its toll, so we headed off to the back of the property to set up camp next to the lake. I slept like a baby, getting all the rest I could before the start of what would prove to be an invigorating weekend to follow.
To be continued…
