Of Visas and Border Control, pt. 2

If you've been following me on Twitter at all (on the left side bar), you'll already know how this story ends. Despite my pessimism, everything went smoothly at the US/Canada border. Well, everything but my rental car, which over heated when I was in line to re-enter Canada. Not a good first impression.

Some of you have been asking why I needed to travel to the border at all. The answer lies in the nature of the NAFTA work visa. Without delving too deeply into immigration law (with which I've becoming very familiar over the past six years), citizens of NAFTA countries are provided a fast-track, short-term work visa to other NAFTA countries, assuming, of course, they meet certain criteria. The best part about this visa is you just bring your paperwork to any point of entry, and they process your visa right there. Presto. In contrast, my New Zealand working visa took six months; permanent residency (counting all three application attempts) took two years. So, the option to apply for, have processed, and receive permit AND be home in tome for tea was refreshing.

Still, I was nervous.

Those who know me well (I'm looking at you P. David Sueper) know my penchant for bending the rules. My plight for a Canadian work visa was no exception. Again, I don't want to bore you with details, so let's just say I didn't exactly meet the visa requirements. To work as a web designer, I needed a science or design degree. My degree is in English. In order to obtain the visa, I would need to show my college transcripts and a letter from my prospective employer. The letter would list the sort of work I would do, so the border guard would make sure I was qualified to do it. No amount of As in "20th Century American Women Poets" was going to convince Mr. Mountie that I could write HTML. The choice was made for me: I was going to have to lie.

Or was I?

Due to the public nature of this blog, I'm not going to explain exactly what transpired, but know this: I obtained my permit legally and without bending any rules whatsoever. . . Of course I did.