Mr. American, I Apologize

On a recent trip to Chicago with fellow classmates from the Creative Communications graduating class of 2009 (thank you, thank you) I realized that this was it. This was probably the last time I would see some of these amazing people. Some would move on to more exotic locations like Calgary or Saskatoon. Others would sadly never cross my path again, simple as that. I looked around the bus at all the faces that had grown so familiar over the years, then, I leaned back in my chair, and promptly fell asleep. I never could stay awake in a moving vehicle.
Hours passed. When I awoke, I was over my bit of sadness due to the crick in my neck and the rumble in my stomach. Luckily (and I use that term lightly), we were pulling into a McDonald’s parking lot for lunch. While in line waiting for my meal – very crabbily waiting for my meal – I had my first encounter with a pedestrian American.
“So, uh, what is this?” he asked, leaning in a little too close. “Where y’all from?” Rubbing the sleep from my eyes I slowly responded, “Winnipeg. Canada. Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada.” Then he said it. “Eh? Eh? Eh? Eh?” and he laughed. AND he elbowed me so I would get the joke too. I didn’t get the joke. In fact, I had no idea what he was talking about and he was elbowing me and I was crabby. I turned to look at him, confusion and annoyance on my face “What?” I demanded. By the time he realized that I was confused, I had caught up. Oh, right. Canadians say eh. Gotcha.
He was still talking. “I’ve been up there before. North Bay. Know anyone from North Bay?” The poor man. I almost felt like I should warn him. I am not the kind of person you make small talk with when freshly awakened. I informed him that no, I did not know anyone in North Bay, Ontario.
I picked up my tray and began to walk away to enjoy what was previously known as a Big Extra in Canada (the U.S. decided that a Big N’ Tasty was a more appetizing name for some reason), when he stopped me with an even better joke – except he wasn’t joking. “You folks have snow year round in most parts don’t ya? Where exactly are the igloos?” I guess you could say I temporarily lost it. I even surprised myself. “I don’t know,” I shot back, “I think they’re in Alaska actually – in YOUR country.” Eep. Red-faced I hurried to join the safety of my fellow Canadians.

As I sat in silence eating my burger (not enjoying my burger) and replaying what had just happened, I realized that I had definitely not lived up to the “Friendly Manitoba” moniker that has adorned our license plates for so long. I suppose I had just been in shock that I had faced almost every major Canadian stereotype in one conversation, with one of the first Americans I had spoken to – and while I was still half asleep.
I will admit, every American I encountered on the trip was very, very kind and I was extra kind in turn. I wanted to repair the damage I had done to my fellow Canadians by my rude behaviour toward the man in the McDonald’s. To you sir, if you’re reading this I have a few things to say: 1) We don’t all say eh. And if some of us do we probably don’t realize it. 2) A Canadian does not know every other Canadian. Canada is pretty big. 3) We don’t live in igloos. Maybe there are some that still do way, way up north but I doubt you or I will ever get the chance to meet them. 4) Anyone who gets off a huge bus with out-of-town license plates is bound to be crabby. You may want to steer clear. 5) The last thing I want to say (and the most important thing) is that I’m sorry. It was a bad day to run into me and try to make friendly small talk. I swear I would’ve been equally as obnoxious to a Canadian.
By the way, Chicago was incredible. I can't wait to go back... if you'll have me.


This guy was one of the funniest Americans I met!