JEFF: I got the notice in the mail.
STAR: Jeez. When was this?
JEFF: Uh, three weeks ago.
STAR: Man. Just out of the blue?
JEFF: Well, mathematically I knew it was coming.
STAR: And they just mail it to you?
JEFF: Yep. Normal day. Sun’s shining. And there I am pulling a draft notice out of the mailbox.
STAR: I can’t imagine.
JEFF: I know. “This can’t be happening.” But there’s the notice. It’s happening. My dad’s at work. I go into the empty house. I stare at the notice. I see myself lifting a rifle to my shoulder, pulling the trigger. I pull out my manual. I put the notice on the table. I write a note. I get my backpack and I close the front door. I know that if I leave it’s fairly guaranteed that they’re never going to let me back into the States. I start walking. I walk for a long time. I’m thinking, the manual says to make sure you have some money. You should be wearing a suit. I don’t have any of those things. I don’t have any employable skills. I’m perfect for the army.
As the sun is getting pretty low, this truck pulls over. There’s a boat strapped on the back. Inside is an enormous man. Really, really huge. You can hardly see the steering wheel. He says, “You want to go fishing?” And I says, “Uh, okay.”
So we drive for a bit. Turns off at this little lake. You can see to the other side. We get into this, you know, little dinghy he’s got, and out we go. Calm, quiet lake. Just outboard motor noise. Funny thing: it’s not until this time that I realize that we don’t have any fishing rods. No sticks, line, nothing. Small boat, large man, and I’m out in a lake, middle of nowhere, nobody knows where I am and it’s getting dark. So he steers the boat, maybe, I don’t know, fifteen yards or so from the other side. He turns off the motor. Silence. We’re just sitting there. “That’s Canada,” he says. “That’s Canada.”
STAR: So what happened?
JEFF: He pushed me.
JEFF: The fat man pushed me in!
JEFF: Yes. He did. So I swam to shore. It looked pretty much the same as the side we had left.