Congratulations on Visiting Canada!

The border guard will look you up and down, then shake his head.

“Where your parka?” he’ll ask in what you’ll presume to be jest.

You’ll shrug and say “Left it in Hartford.”

He won’t smile.  He’ll just stamp your passport and, before handing it back to you, lay his hand over yours.  His face will go grave, his eyes dark.

“I’ve got no way to legally prohibit you from entering this great land, but I’m begging you, go home, go to a sporting goods store, go anywhere but north and get a winter coat before you cross that border.

You’ll laugh.

“It’s August,” you’ll smirk at him.  “I think I’ll be okay.”

His eyes will begin to tear, but you won’t pay him any heed.  You’ll be over the border before you have a chance to think of how strange it is that a stranger would weep while making such an elaborate and dedicated joke.  You’ll chuckle, not because it was funny, but because you won’t know exactly how to feel.

Ten minutes down the road, you’ll begin to feel a chill.  You’ll roll your window up, but that won’t help.  You’ll flip the heat on, but still, no avail.  You’ll stop your car on the side of the road and step out to see if maybe it’s something wrong with your AC, but outside it will be just as cool as inside.  When you try to re-enter your car your fingers will be frozen into claws.  You’ll struggle to unlock your door in vain, clawing at the handle to no avail.  Weeping, your tears will freeze as they fall down your face, burning your skin.

Your corpse will be found the next morning by Mounted Police, frozen stiff.

“Looks like a southlander came up here without a proper coat, eh,” the first mounty will announce.

“Winter is coming,” the other will reply.

Congratulations on Visiting Canada!