June 28th, 2009
I just spent the weekend with old friends of Husband’s in the Excited States of America. We had a really amazing time – our hosts were just fabulous, they have a wicked cat, and we gorged on rice and beans with avocado and fresh salsa. (Turns out Mexican is very good for vegans.)
In any case, after a long drive home we decided drinks were in order, so I have had a shocking FIVE drinks tonight and am feeling rather silly as a result. Husband is of course playing poker while I internet drunk. Observations from the weekend:
1. America is HUGE on the military. I gather my sample is skewed because Washington, and specifically the I-5, is the territory of several bases, national guard training centres, and some place where the bulk of the US subs with ICBMs live. Anyway, the place is lousy with American flags, patriotic bumper stickers (“Proud Army Dad”), shamelessly manipulative radio ads about proving your loyalty to the motherland, and stores with America in the title or stars and bars in the logo. As a Canadian, where the military is largely invisible (even in my home town, which boasted a base while I was growing up), and nationalism is tepid at best, it was shocking to see so much freakin’ jingo on display. It’s freaky, man. I can’t be comfortable with anyone who puts so much energy into killing/annihilating shit for a flag. In bed with an elephant indeed.
2. Imperial measures are stupid, stupid, stupid. America, please join the rest of the civilised world and switch to metric. We’d love to have you.
3. The Michael Jackson song “Bad” is SO not bad. I have formulated what will now be known of as Vex’s Law, which states that any song which contains a chorus is by definition not badass. As a former metalhead I speak with authority. “Really, really bad!” is everything but.
4. Crossing the border is easy when I’m at the wheel. Husband is white with a very anglo name but he comes from Acadian stock and I believe this is why he always gets hassled at airports and the border. (Acadians may be better known to you by their American name, Cajuns. It’s a complicated history including a forced exodus from the Maritimes – which is why they are in the States – but clearly at some point some non-white people got in the mix, and they tend to be a little browner than your usual Canadian. Plus he wears a beard and you know that means Muslim extremist.) Anyway, I am easily intimidated by authority figures and I think that works just fine with the personality of your usual border guard. Have I told you my hypothesis that they are power hungry petty tyrants who couldn’t make it as real cops? Yeah. That type would love a deferential female and I think this is why I am always waved through checkpoints with barely a glance. I would probably be a great smuggler if I had the stomach for it, which I don’t. I am not built for subterfuge.
5. Good gravy, it is after midnight and I’m still up! Horsepoop! I am going to bed.
I grew up on a Canadian Air Force base, and I can tell you that there wasn’t as much jingo to be seen on your average American street. It’s bizarre.