Lost at Home
I’m back on my own turf.
Toronto. Southern Ontario. Roads I’ve known for decades.
After two years of traveling across continents, relying on maps, translations, and instincts… you’d think coming home would feel easy.
Familiar.
Comfortable.
Apparently not.
I set out on a simple mission- drive to Fort Erie to pick up a table for my Fringe show. A straightforward trip to a border town next to Buffalo.
No Google Maps needed. No big deal.
I’m driving along the highway, looking for my exit – Sunset Drive.
Except… I don’t see it.
I keep going.
Closer. And closer.
To the border.
No exit.
I tell myself, “Worst case, I’ll just exit before the border and loop back.”
Simple.
Except… that’s not what happened.
One wrong turn later, I find myself at Duty Free.
Which is not where you want to accidentally end up.
I go inside, slightly amused, slightly confused, and explain my situation.
They look at me and say, very matter-of-factly:
“You have to exit through U.S. Customs and come back through Canadian Customs.”
That’s when it hits me.
I don’t have my passport.
I didn’t even leave Canada.
And yet… here I am.
So now I’m driving toward the Canadian customs booth, trying to figure out how to explain that I did not actually leave Canada and not coming back with all the other cars from the U.S., I just got… geographically confused.
The officer is not amused.
I explain. He listens. He doesn’t look convinced.
So I start offering evidence.
“I have a receipt… from Canada… from 30 minutes ago… for ice cream.”
“Costco ice cream”, as if that makes a difference.
Yes, this is my defense.
Still not convinced.
Then I remember — somewhere, at some point, I had sent a photo of my passport.
So there I am, at the border, scrolling through my phone like my freedom depends on it.
Because it kind of does.
I find it.
I show him.
He checks his system.
A pause.
Then finally- I’m allowed back.
Relief.
But not without a price.
A toll fee.
For a bridge between the countries, I never crossed.
From a country I never entered.
Getting lost cost me this time.
And it makes me wonder…
Did I forget how to navigate my own home after two years away?
I hope not.
Because come July, I need to make it to Fringe daily.
And ideally…
without accidentally leaving the country again.
