We're all familiar with the image of the stereotypical American. Loud, obnoxious, parochial.
Recently while waiting for my lovely wife at a local public house for our end of week Friday evening cocktail, I was sitting at the bar when a gentleman saddled up beside me. I would recognize a few of the so-called regulars at this establishment, but this guy was unfamiliar.
At about 6'5 he was (and I presume still is) very tall, about 60 years old and had a definite hippie look about him, given his relatively long hair and beard. Within a few moments of sitting down, he asked me how close we were to "the arena the Raptors played in". After scolding him and telling him "Sir..it's not an arena..it's a Centre..a Centre", I indicated that it was about a 10 minute cab ride.
This was a clear invitation to the dance. Not literally of course, but when you sit at the bar in a pub, it's expected that strangers may strike up conversations. Based on his question above, I correctly surmised he was from out of town. But there was something just a little bit different about this visitor.
Mike indicated that he lives in Cleveland and was visiting Toronto for no particular reason at all. He said that in a previous life he was "in the derivatives game". I know as much about derivatives as I know about blogging, but the gist was that he was pushed out of the stock market business for some reason or another several years back -given that industry's history, who knows what nefarious activities he might have been involved in. Regardless, he apparently did quite well and was now retired. He had never been to Toronto and on this journey, aside from stopping in Michigan for some antique furniture, he just decided to come check out Hogtown.
What was refreshing about Mike was that he was atypical of the American stereotype. He was relatively quiet, unassuming and not at all boastful. As one should do in polite conversation, we asked each other about our respective cities, although he was originally from Connecticut. We avoided talking about religion or politics, but I knew that even though Mike was a generation or so ahead of me, we'd likely see things along the same lines.
Before we made our way home, both my wife and I gave Mike the scoop on some of the best spots to check out while he was in Toronto. As we parted company, we said our goodbyes and he gave us a card with his phone number and address, indicating that if we were ever in his neck of the woods, call him up. He'd show us around and take us both out on his sailboat.
All in all, a pleasantly surprising chance meeting with one of our American cousins, but in reality, I know I'll never see Mike again...you know..because Cleveland.
Recently while waiting for my lovely wife at a local public house for our end of week Friday evening cocktail, I was sitting at the bar when a gentleman saddled up beside me. I would recognize a few of the so-called regulars at this establishment, but this guy was unfamiliar.
At about 6'5 he was (and I presume still is) very tall, about 60 years old and had a definite hippie look about him, given his relatively long hair and beard. Within a few moments of sitting down, he asked me how close we were to "the arena the Raptors played in". After scolding him and telling him "Sir..it's not an arena..it's a Centre..a Centre", I indicated that it was about a 10 minute cab ride.
This was a clear invitation to the dance. Not literally of course, but when you sit at the bar in a pub, it's expected that strangers may strike up conversations. Based on his question above, I correctly surmised he was from out of town. But there was something just a little bit different about this visitor.
Mike indicated that he lives in Cleveland and was visiting Toronto for no particular reason at all. He said that in a previous life he was "in the derivatives game". I know as much about derivatives as I know about blogging, but the gist was that he was pushed out of the stock market business for some reason or another several years back -given that industry's history, who knows what nefarious activities he might have been involved in. Regardless, he apparently did quite well and was now retired. He had never been to Toronto and on this journey, aside from stopping in Michigan for some antique furniture, he just decided to come check out Hogtown.
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| Not surprisingly, Mike looked exactly like this guy. |
Before we made our way home, both my wife and I gave Mike the scoop on some of the best spots to check out while he was in Toronto. As we parted company, we said our goodbyes and he gave us a card with his phone number and address, indicating that if we were ever in his neck of the woods, call him up. He'd show us around and take us both out on his sailboat.
All in all, a pleasantly surprising chance meeting with one of our American cousins, but in reality, I know I'll never see Mike again...you know..because Cleveland.
I've been to Cleveland a number of times. Don't go to Cleveland and get on a strangers sailboat. Just don't.
ReplyDeleteI like Americans......in their own country. They are fascinatimg people, each with their own story that is equal parts about achieving the American Dream and absolute tragedy. They are like background characters in the Cohen brothers film.
ReplyDeleteThat said, I will never forget the scene of a bus load of them at the Tower of London in Porkey Pig t-shirts asking me where McDonald's is....that was a bad scene.
@Clefto - you might be on to something. In setting up a day to go sailing with him, he replied and suggested only my wife goes and she meets him at the marina at midnight.
ReplyDelete@Kaiserhead - it is the Canadian way for us to look more upon our US counterparts that the other way around, since we're essentially living in their shadow, dominated by their media and worldwide super power status. There's just so much going on there, or so it seems, that they rarely think of us, which is fine. It's nice keeping a lower profile. There's a certain dignity to it.
Like you've said though, I have found that many of them do fit into a few stereotypical categories. When I was in New York city a couple of years back, we took the obligatory stroll through Times Square, and I'll never need to do that again, ever. It was like fucking Disney Land, and although NYC's largely been cleaned up for the better, a bit of the city died when the sanitized it. Times Square is nothing but a wall of neon Appleby's signs and white suburban American familiesfrom the midwest wearing Connecticut sweatshirts..you know..to tell everyone they're from Connecticut. Makes me want to go home and watch Taxi Driver immediately.