We had a few mission trips deep inside Mexico in the 1990s, and I drove, which was a hoot, but one time we were crossing an internal state border, which is manned with machine guns and such in Mexico, and they were looking over our vans a bit. One of the soldiers was an 18 year old kid, unarmed, and as he opened the doors, he grinned a bit at all the wide-eyed teenagers, and used his finger and hand to mime having a rifle in his hands.
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I have a bit of disreputable look, I think–at least, I’ve been given the double check at the Canadian border a couple of times. Once in the Windsor/Detroit crossing, I think I deserved it–my car’s trunk was full of cereal boxes and non perishable food, because my roommates had a tendency to eat my food without permission, and that was the safest place I could put it. I think the Canadian border patrol thought I was trying to smuggle wacky tabacky in the boxes, so they had me and my friends stand against the wall while they searched the car before we could go for dim sum. They weren’t threatening, just solemn.
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