Speaking of Border Patrol, you can always tell the ones that have been recently rotated up from the Mexican to the Canadian border crossing stations. Long-time Canadian border regulars saunter out of the office, casually ask for your passport and barely scan it over, and ask you how your trip was before waving you on through. The officers that are used to the other border come out with one hand on their pistol, on red-alert, spring-loaded to react at the slightest thing.
It makes for quite a contrast, particularly at a place like the sleepy border crossing closest to where I grew up; 95% of the traffic through it was log trucks or Canadian locals that crossed over to buy cheaper gas at the station just across the line on the US side.