Olympics Game Day: USA v. Canada


During an 8 hour bus ride from Paris to Switzerland, the tour guide asked each person on our “adult teen tour”, to speak into the microphone and introduce himself to the group. There were specific ice-breaker questions to answer such as what’s your ideal job or what would you would do with access to unlimited money?

A girl named Megan wearing a t-shirt that said “Canada” in big red letters explained she was wearing the Canada t-shirt so no one would mistake her as an American. It was a slight dig at the USA, but since most people on the bus were from Australia, New Zealand, and Mexico the comment went over their heads. It didn’t go over my head.

I took my opportunity with the microphone to tell Megan that no one would ever mistake her as an American. I said it with such Andy Kauffman-like deadpan seriousness, that the Mexicans thought I was really angry, but didn’t know why, even Canadian Megan shifted in her seat a bit. I continued, declaring I chose this trip to avoid hanging out with Americans, and under my breathe added, and Canadians.There was a soft chuckle among the handful of Arizona college students, but it was too late. I was the American Psycho of the group sitting on my throne of hamburgers adorned in Abercrombie and Fitch reeking from the stench of dirty american capitalism. Whose the asshole now?

I later found out it was Megan’s birthday. Asshole x 2. Apparently, Megan brought the shirt to support Canada at the Olympic Track and Field games. She was thinking ahead, whereas, the only patriotic colors I remembered to bring were my blue jeans and t-shirt for the Friars, an old boys club where elderly jews meet to talk about their prostate problems and impotence–the true essence of American culture I’d like to represent while at the Olympics in Europe.

Note # 1 to self, know your audience; Note # 2 I am no Sasha Baron Cohen. Thankfully, I opted to use my answer to the “what would I do with unlimited money” question, “to win back Megan’s heart”. I got a few pity “awws” from the bus and returned to my seat as a patriotic putz.

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