Sometimes in this business they deliver themselves into your hands. As a reporter I’ve called a lot of people and asked them questions they don’t necessarily want to answer. Once in a while, however, what comes out of their mouths has left me shaking my head in amazement.
Five of us sailed into Rockland recently, having crossed the Gulf of Maine from Yarmouth, Nova Scotia — a trip of about 130 miles that we sailed in magnificent early September weather. We cleaned up our boat, ferried our goods ashore and did what law-abiding Americans are supposed to do: we called the authorities to check in.
It was a Saturday evening. The harbormaster’s office was closed. The nearest federal authority — an arm of the Department of Homeland Security, no less — was the U.S. Coast Guard.
Duty officer: “Coast Guard Rockland, good evening.”
Me: “Hello, I’ve just arrived aboard a boat. We’d like to check in or do whatever we’re supposed to. We’ve come from Canada. We’re all U.S. citizens. We’ve been out of the U.S. for about 36 hours.”
Duty officer: “You’ll have to call Portland. Their number is ——–.”
So I dialed the number. After a few rings I got a recording to the effect that the Immigration office had moved and that its new number was ——–.
I dialed the new number and reached a polite man.
Man: “Immigration and Naturalization Service. How may I help you?”
Me: “I’d like to check in. I’ve just sailed in from Canada.”
Man: “Have you called Houlton?”
Me: “No. Do you have their number?”
Man: “They handle all border matters. Their number is ——–.”
I dialed Houlton and got a border person.
Me: “Hello. I’d like to check in. I’ve just sailed in from Canada.”
Border person: “Sailed in? Where are you?”
Me: “Rockland.”
Border person: “You’ll have to call Bangor. They handle that area. Here’s their number…..”
I dialed Bangor and got a person who deals with airplanes.
Airplane person: “You sailed in from where? There’s no one here at the office. You’ll have to wait for the morning shift. Stay aboard your vessel until someone calls you.”
Me: “Can we check in by phone? That was what we did in Canada.”
Airplane person: “No sir. You must be met in person. Stay aboard until you’re called in the morning.”
Standing in the parking lot outside the harbormaster’s office, we decided to interpret “aboard” liberally and headed our separate ways, agreeing that we’d reassemble the next morning if Bangor called.
It did: around 8 a.m., as I was driving back toward Rockland from the Undisclosed Location where I had spent the night, the cell phone rang. It was yet another officer in Bangor, just as polite as everyone else had been.
Officer: “Mr. Platt, I suspect you’re not going to like what I have to tell you, but we don’t have anyone available to come down there today. So we’ll have to clear you by phone — and by the way, do you have a sticker for your boat?”
Me: “Thanks for the clearance. And what’s this about a sticker?”
Officer: “Well, they’re for private boats over 30 feet in length. They cost $26.95.” He gave me a website where I could order one.
Me: “Tell me, would having a sticker have made any difference in our situation last night, where we couldn’t check in?
Officer: “No sir. They cost $26.95.”
Me: “So what’s the purpose, if I may ask?”
Officer: “It helps defray our costs.”
Do I feel safe from terrorists? You bet.
— David D. Platt