My family and I recently had a wonderful trip to Niagara Falls and Canada. We thought we got away clean — just some souvenirs, some memories, and an enhanced appreciation for poutine.
But they got us.
Those crack Canadian highway marshals, members of the fabled 407 Brigade, finally tracked us down. Politely, of course.
Apparently our New Jersey EZ Pass, worn down from years of Garden State Parkway trauma, does not work up north, and we owe roughly twenty-two Canadian dollars.
Probably political retaliation.
I’m honestly a little surprised the toll notice wasn’t hand-delivered by a Mountie on mooseback smelling faintly of maple syrup.
I assume most Ontarians have their toll accounts linked directly to the family maple tree. Every time they pass under a gantry, another thimble of syrup gets diverted into the infrastructure fund.
Canadian OPEC.
The notice itself was very nice, though. In fact, it took a moment to brag about its award-winning customer service.
Which awards, exactly?
Is there an EZ Pass Olympics?
Do nations march behind tiny tollbooths during the opening ceremonies?
Does Canada absolutely dominate the Gold Token count?
I assume the opening ceremonies are delayed every four years by an exact-change-only lane and a minor tuk-tuk / vintage Volkswagen pileup near the international cash plaza.
Eventually someone from Switzerland wins the Individual Transponder event and everyone goes home.
Anyway, I am definitely going to pay.
I’m not sure what happens if I don’t.
Is there an EZ Pass Interpol?
Are there countries with no toll extradition treaty?
I also have several broader questions.
What exactly is the significance of 407?
Is it the number of poutine flavors?
The number of Mountie theme songs?
The number of times Canada asked for independence before Britain looked through a desk drawer and realized they still technically had some paperwork?
Just kidding, Canada. I do love you, and I’m even half Canadian.
I’m also left-handed, and back in college some circles knew me as “Funny Mike,” which I believe statistically increases the likelihood that I have at least one distant connection to Tim Hortons.
Early detection and monitoring is key.
But I’m definitely paying the bill. I do not want to start an international incident.
Pretty sure the War of 1812 started over toll disputes.
And let’s not forget the infamous Hamilton–Burr duel, which most historians conveniently leave out began while the two men were stuck in traffic on the Rainbow Bridge.
Burr sarcastically yelled:
“Going to Hamilton, huh? Even the city named Hamilton put up a tollbooth when it heard you were coming!”
Hamilton, enraged, called back:
“Eat shit and die, Burr!”
“No, Hamilton. Eat shit and live!” Burr bantered back.
Next thing you know they’re blasting away at each other in front of a Jersey Mike’s.
I don’t want that happening here.
Not over $22 Canadian.
Especially when, after conversion, I believe that’s approximately eleven American dollars, three loonies, a Coffee Crisp and future considerations.
So yes — pay your Canadian tolls, be kind to Canadians, and remember:
You may not believe in Bigfoot.
But he definitely believes in you.