Canada was already on Michael Lucas’ shit list after shipments of fetish flicks Piss! and Farts! were denied at the border. But then Lucas himself was detained at the border — and threatened to be sent back to the U.S. — so you can guess how the porn impresario is feeling about our northern neighbor.
Flying in for a club appearance, Lucas hit a snafu at immigration. It was just like Gitmo, minus the waterboarding, sleep deprevation, and walling!
It was instigated as I went through the first passport control zone. The unpleasantly bored man started off with the usual questions: What are you doing in Canada, eh? How long will you be here? Then the survey went a little deeper, probing at what I did for a living. What kind of company is it? Is it softcore or hardcore? His obnoxiously tired act turned abrasive and superior. His agenda at this point was to get my porny ass back to America. He jotted down a note on my white customs card and sent me off. As I was about to exit, I showed the next officer my card and apparently the little note meant to direct me further to another screening area. The secondary control procedure was a slow one. Every other person was an Asian foreigner who needed a translator. The ever-so clever and sluggish customs workers seemed to enjoy mocking them.
Eventually I got to my second interrogator. He fed me the same tedious questions that I had already went over. Then he got his amateur Scooby-Doo sleuth on. He questioned if I had cash or credit cards. I responded that I only had $300 cash because I forgot my wallet at home. He found it unbelievable that I could survive on such little funds for my 24-hour trip. He rudely questioned, ‘Do you really expect me to believe this?’ and I fittingly responded, ‘Absolutely.’ I supplied proof that my hotel and transportation fees had already been paid. He questioned why I was staying in a five-star hotel and who was paying for this. He yawnfully threatened me with, ‘Do you understand that I have the authority to force you on a plane back?’ to which I calmly responded with another, ‘Absolutely’. I continued to sit idle and destroy his idiotic quiz. Then Nancy Drew wanted to call my friend who set up my trip. After that satisfying chat he signed me off to proceed.
Lastly, in this torture chamber assembly line, I was to have all my bags emptied and rummaged through. Of course I had my movies on me, a stack of nude pictures to sign and lube. The essentials. Homophobia was running rampant with these captors and they were highly offended by said essentials. They questioned why I had so many images that depict me nude– I told them it was for my friends who enjoy my movies. They wanted to make sure I was not planning on selling my devil films to their innocent public. I assured them that the despicably sinful merchandise was only for my friends…lest they captors would pistol whip me.
Finally after two hours of incessant questioning trying to dig up anything so that they could banish a gay porn star back across the border, I was granted my freedom.