A Run for the Border

Working both in the fine art and mental health fields for the last 20 years definitely showed me that the truth is stranger than fiction. When I've told stories of the workplace to my friends, I'm usually asked if I am making this stuff up. I assure you that I don't make it up, and these situations usually find me and not the other way around. I even have to wonder if what I am experiencing sometimes is actually unfolding in front of me. There are times I feel like I should have a prerecorded soundtrack handy for when unusual events unfold.

For instance, while at work one day, I was dropping a client off at their home when I got a phone call from my boss at the main office. The conversation went like this:

Boss: "So, how are you doing?" (laughing)
Me: "What do you want?"   (laughing back)
Boss: "Well do you have your birth certificate handy?"
Me: "It's at home. Why?"
Boss: "Well can you go home and get it?"
Me: "I can but why do you need me to get my birth certificate?"
Boss: "Well......we need you to help pick up one of the clients at the Windsor Hospital."

Okay, time out. Client. Windsor. Hospital. Are you kidding me?! This had to be one of the strangest things I've ever encountered in my time working in the mental health field.

For those of you who don't know, Windsor is located in Canada on the border of Detroit. So where I was it is about 35 minutes to get there by freeway. At this point in time, you could still cross the Canadian/ U.S. border with a birth certificate and photo ID. Passports and Enhance Driver's Licenses weren't necessary.

Now back to the story...

I had my sister meet up with me half way from home to give me my birth certificate, and returned to the office. My Mission: Go with another co-worker to Windsor pick up the client from the hospital, retrieve their car, and bring them back to a hospital local to the agency. Sounds fairly simple, right? Yeah, well, there are a few details that can make it difficult. First, border patrol police. Depending on their mood, you may or may not have ease crossing back and forth across the border. Second, the client's car was left at a Tim Horton's after they were taken to the hospital by the Windsor Police. The client claimed to have "car trouble" which was why I was asked to go in the first place because of my background knowledge of cars. Although given that the client had become disorientated and that's why the police took her to the hospital, I had a sneaky suspicion that there was nothing wrong with the car. The only problem will be is to find the damn thing. Tim Horton's in Canada is the same as McDonald's here; there is one on every street corner.

After our debriefing and strategy meeting, my co-worker and I loaded up in an agency car and made a run for the border. We get to the border crossing officer for Canada. The conversation goes as followed:

Officer: "Please state your business."
Me: "We received a call from the Windsor Hospital that one of our clients was there and needed to be picked up." (as I hand our credentials to the officer)
Officer: "Well, how did your client get here?"
Before I could stop myself...."How should I know. You all let her in."
Officer: "Okay. Fair enough. The Windsor Hospital will be located....." and proceeded to give us directions.

Now I'll never figure out how in the hell I managed not to get in trouble for that one.

We picked up the client without incident. It was very clear that the client had problems with their medication and was only half lucid. Now we had to tackle the $68,000 dollar question: Where in the hell is the car?

So with a half lucid client, we embarked on a journey through the streets of Windsor hitting up every Tim Horton's on the map we got at the welcome center at the Windsor border. And yes, every single Tim Horton's was highlighted on the map. After about an hour, I had felt like I was in an episode of driving Miss Daisy with both the client and co-worker in the back seat while searching through Tim Horton's parking lots. We knew that we were running out of time in getting the client back across and admitted to the psychiatric unit close to the agency. So we decided to look at one more Tim Horton's. If the car wasn't there, we would have to go back without it and figure it out later.

Upon the arrival at our last Tim Horton's of the afternoon, there was the car. Upon inspection, there was nothing wrong with car just as I had suspected. So the plan was to caravan back to the motherland with me in the company car and my co-worker driving the client's car with the client in it. We were hoping the cross back to the U.S. would be as smooth as Canada.

Back at the U.S. border:
Officer: "State your business."
Me: "Transporting our client back from the Windsor Hospital." (as my credentials were being checked)
Officer: "So where is the client?"
Me: "In their car behind me with my co-worker."
Officer: "Why did they cross the border in the first place?"
Me: "I have no clue. You'll have to ask them, if they can answer."
Officer: "Well why can't they answer?"
Me: "It's a psychiatric client and they are not completely lucid."
Officer: "Oh, never mind. Go ahead."

And with that I was back in the motherland completing one of the weirdest work errands I've ever had been asked to do.