Hundreds of Donald Trump supporters, fleeing what they anticipate to be a rigged election and inevitable Hillary Clinton presidency, were turned away from the Canadian border on Tuesday.
Traveling in a convoy of cars, pick-up trucks and RVs, they headed up Interstate 15 through Montana to the border town of Sweet Grass, hoping to settle in the conservative province of Alberta, at least for the next four years. But Canadian border officials, citing a variety of reasons, rebuffed their attempts to immigrate to Canada.
“Some of them had no documents whatsoever, not even a library card,” said one border official, speaking on condition of anonymity. “A few of them wanted to bring guns across the border. One man showed me his back, where he had previously tattooed the name ‘Trump,’ but had crossed off the ‘mp’ and added ‘deau’ instead. When I told him that Justin Trudeau is a Liberal, he almost fainted.”
A few other tattoos caught the border official’s attention. “One man had MAGA tattooed on his upper arm. When I asked him what it stood for, he hesitated for a second, then said, ‘Make Alberta Great Again.’”
The border official smiled as he recalled another tattoo. “It was on a woman’s forearm. It said ‘Trump or Death.’ She apparently believed that moving to Canada is like death. But I set her straight. She’d better go somewhere else to die.”
Some of the Trump supporters gathered at the McDonald’s in Sweet Grass to lament their misfortune.
“It’s so unfair,” a middle-aged woman said, sitting at a small table beside the play area. “We just wanted to be refugees. We heard Canada accepts lots of refugees.”
“The system is rigged against us,” her husband said. “They said they’re accepting refugees from Syria, Somalia, Ukraine and other countries, but none from America.”
“It’s discrimination, that’s what it is,” a thirty-something man yelled from a table across the restaurant. “White people are always being discriminated against.”
“You got that right!” the middle-aged woman responded.
An older man, sitting in a booth, grunted in agreement. He was slumped over his table, his hands clasped behind his head.
“Open borders,” he said. “Why can’t we just have open borders?”
Asked what he planned to do next, he shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go to Mexico. Thank God there isn’t a wall there yet.”
“Yeah, we might head down there too!” the middle-aged woman shouted from her table. “Anywhere but Hillaryland.”
“Let’s go to Acapulco,” her husband said. He rolled up his sleeve and pointed to his MAGA tattoo. “Make Acapulco Great Again!”