My flight from Toronto to San Francisco was uneventful, except for the border security.
Arriving in the US, I presented my passport and was greeted not with a smile, but a with an onslaught of questions in rapid succession, which I managed to answer in a fairly timely manner.
Border Control: “Where have you come from?”
BC: “Why are you here?”
BC: “Where will you be staying?”
Me: Hotel X
BC: “What is your occupation?”
And with that, whether he had run out of questions or was happy to have a travelling paramedic in front of him, he wished me a good day and I was on my merry way in to ‘Cisco.