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Rock the Casbah like a hurricane(or, how ryan got it up in Windsor)

Last month I crossed the American border into Canada to join some of the folks at Windsor's IWASCURED and have a bit of fun and maybe even a holy moment while I was suspending. Fun was in full force when I arrived, but there was a hard road to travel in order to cross over. Before I get on to the actual deed, I thought I would pass on to any of those border crossers a fair warning by preceding my suspension experience with a border experience.

 As I pull up to the booth with the canadian immigration guy, I notice he has a moustache. Instantly I know there's trouble in that moustache.

"So where you from?" he asks, my immediate response would like to be 'what's your sign big guy?' but i think that would be sealing my fate.

"Indiana" I replied.

"Let me see some ID". I handed him my drivers license.

"So what are you doing in canada", he asked.

"Meeting some friends" I replied.

"Where are they from"


He asks, "what are their names?"

A pause. A problem. I don't know there names. I've only met them on the internet. Well, what do I have to lose, I'm not going to make up names. I reply "I really don't know their names, this is the first time I will be meeting them face to face. We've only talked over the internet"

"Really," he says. "Do you have anything with you other than what's on your person?"

I want to reply, 'well, there's the car,' I'm pretty sure it's not in my pocket or anything. Instead I say "No."

"So where do these people live?" He asks.

"I don't know, all I have are these directions." He wants to see the directions, and I also, without thinking hand him the paper that I printed out instructing me of this afternoon's events. I have to spoon feed him the information, he apparently is one of those people who has never heard of the internet or something, and can't figure out why someone would drive to canada to see people they have never met in person. In fact, I would go as far as to say he probably hasn't left his house in the past decade, and probably still is down with Ratt and Poison and can't understand why no one thinks Vinella Ice is a badass anymore.  After much indignation on his side and many nervous smiles on my side, he tells me to pull up. I pull up and he hands me a paper sand says "Take this paper and drive over to that building. Park on the left and go in to the door and talk to immigration. I say "thanks" and drive over, expecting a full body cavity search and psychological profiling. I bet t hese Canadians aren't down with thoughtcrimes.

I drive over, park my car and walk inside. There are many people, all in one group going through the motions of the system, talking. I just stand there, and when it's my turn I head over to the desk to talk to the immigration lady.

I hand her the paper. "So your meeting friends," she asks.


"Where do you work?"

"I'm a postal employee" I replied.

"Is that stressful," She asks.

"Not really," I say. "The pay is good."

She stamps the paper and hands it back. "Take this to the officer standing next to your car. Have a nice day". Relieved, I walk back out to my car to find that there is no officer standing next to my car. So I get in and wait. A few minutes later officer mustache arrives. "Can I see your paper," He asks.

"Sure", I hand him the paper.

"You know what? Step out of the car."

I oblige, realizing that things were about to turn to hell. What proceeded was in my opinion the wort case of abuse of power I have ever seen with my own eyes, as two of Canada's border patrol proceeded to rip apart my car, look through my pictures and not put them back, leaving them strewn across the floor, and handing back and forth a notebook with some of my writing, apparently interested in what I had to say. They went through my books, thankfully finding no objection to A People's History Of The United States by Zinn, or my book on the history of the IWW. There was some commotion over my stick of sage incense, a gift from my brother in L.A. The officer apparently thought he had something shady until he smelled it, at which point he agreed with me that it was, in fact sage. After about a half an hour of this they searched my person, and I knew my car was finished so I was glad they never went through my dream journal, I have no idea what they would have made out of the  several violent killings and graphic sexual encounters in those pages. The officer made another scandalous discovery which was the change bag I keep in my wallet, quite suspicious until opened, or lightly jingled. Finally I was let go, and mustache walked valiantly into the sunset, satisfied with inconvenioncing another freak kid. So now I'm free and in Canada. This was when the fun was supposed to begin.

After getting lost several times and figuring out that my directions were from the tunnel to windsor instead of the bridge(which I took), I arrive, just in time. Several people ask me what my name is, and I tell them, then tell them what my name on BMEzine.com is, seeing as there has been no reason to know my real name up until now. As I walk past some people putting up a rig of sorts, I greet myself to several people I have only seen over the internet. I'm quite nervous, and I realize I left my juice and my music selection in my car. I go out to get it, and come back. It's time. they are prepping to start the piercings. I definately don't want to go first, so I let 3 people go ahead of me, closely watching the facial features of the people as four needles and hooks are pierced through each of their backs. It's my turn, and I'm very nervous. Finally I breath in, out, in, and on the out the needle goes through. No big deal, I was surprised that it didn't hurt as much as I th ought it would. then three more, and I'm ready. One by one, the others go up and I talk to more people as it goes along. Most of the people pick music like Tool and Refused, I had a different style in mind.

The time came, and I got my CD and they strung the hooks through my back up with rope. The CD went on, it was the Waking Life soundtrack. a bit more mellow, just piano, accordion and strings. One of the guys came up to me and told me to take deep breaths. they began to make the connection from the ropes through my back to the ceiling more taut, and I started to feel the hooks pulling away from my body. He told me that they were going to have me walk back and forth, getting used to the pain in my back. I was getting more and more nervous, and the rope was getting higher and it was hurting. Then one of the guys came up to me and told me "It's better to deal with the pain in the air than on the ground," and with that, I gave the signal and was hoisted up into the air, completely suspended by 4 hooks going through the flesh in my back. Somwhere between the pain of the initial pull and the shocking fact that I was, in truth, being held by 4 hooks pierced through my flesh, the pai n dissappeared, and instead there was a great feeling of pressure on my back. Immediately I was reminded of a kung-fu movie with flying ninjas and such, like I was a goofy Jet Li or something. The feeling was immense. The only way I can describe the aura would be lucid life. I've felt that aura before, it usually comes from playing live shows in a band or this one time when I crashed my car. This was the same, but also different. It was what I imagine zero gravity would feel like. I was swinging, and I liked it so I kicked a wall sending me farther out. I did this many times, and pushed off of people. I moved my arms and legs differently, and watched how my body reacted, generally spinning a lot. this went on for a while, I couldn't tell you how long, but I think I was on track 8 or 9 when I decided it was time to stop.

As I came down, I felt a great heaviness in my back. this was strange. It was different being back down, kind of like being in a small car for a cross-country drive and getting out all of the sudden. I felt very much calm and at peace with everything. Just a bit better than the general euphoria I feel after every piercing. I sat down and one of the group came over and she removed the needles and started massaging out any air bubbles in my skin, which she said would feel wierd, but didn't. Actually it felt very good. so I was done and the last of the people went up and I wasn't sure if everything was done. But then two of the guys went over, got pierced and did a pulling, which is kind of like both guys doing a tug of war with hooks in their back and rope through the holes. That was very interesting. It was time to leave. Hugs all around, and I left, walking back to the car and thinking that all of the bad things that happened, from the border to getting lost, felt pretty pet ty after all of that.

Well, quite surprisingly the American border was a little more acceptable to me, and I made it back. All the ride home I had this feeling, like I knew how Jesus felt when people paint him and he's on the cross all calm and he just looks like he's saying "What are you worrying about? I'm the son of god, recognize." I made it home around 7 and fell asleep, and that's my story. Definately a great experience. the guys in the suspension group, IWASCURED, told me to avoid people who will depress me for the next few days seeing as I'm at a hightened emotional point right now, and I've done that successfully, other than work. All of the sudden, my general displeasure for working a 'straight job' has incresed to a feeling of depression that hasn't really left me to this day. for the next day and a half I'd been on a euphoric emotional high, just feeling great. I can't wait to go up to Canada this summer and do it again. It was definately one of the top five things i've done in my en tire life. the entire situation was like a dream, but I have the scars to prove it was part of this particular reality.


submitted by: Anonymous
on: 14 March 2002
in Ritual

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Studio: Amsterdam+Lounge
Location: Windsor%2C+ON%2C+Canada

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