When I backpacked throughout Europe during my college semester abroad in England, I exchanged my Stars and Stripes lapel pin for a small Canadian maple leaf flag pin instead to wear on my jacket.
I’m not from Canada, nor have I ever crossed the border to visit our Molson- drinkin’, hockey-playin’, Bob and Doug McKenzie-producin’ pals of the Great White North (Cooo Loo coo coo coo coo COO COO!)
I wore the Maple Leaf pin simply
because it made me less of a target for unsolicited political lambasting upon walking into the local pub. Being faux Canadian just made traveling easier.
It had nothing to do with being ashamed of being a red-blooded, freedom fry-eatin’ American. Sparing the soapbox, I love my country and am proud to be an American.
I just got tired of the tirade of questions and sometimes attacks that would ensue when I told inquisitors that I lived in the United States. The questions were unending and intrusive: What did I think of then President George Bush, Sr.? Who did I vote for? What political party was I in? Did I believe in the death penalty? Why can’t Vice President Quayle spell potato correctly?
Read my lips: no more questions. I was just a college kid who wanted to see the world and was hardly interested in anything political. Plus, we didn’t have Jon Stewart or Steven Colbert to make politics actually fun and interesting back then, just Wolf Blitzer. Hoser.
The coup de grace occurred when an irate Englishman wagged his finger in my face, screaming that he hated Americans because “you think you own the world.” I almost said, Well, we kinda do, compared to you Limey bastards, but reason kicked in and I kept my mouth shut and walked away from the violence. Just because I’m American does give open license for Europeans to lambaste me with their polemic political opinions and deriding, biting comments. Stop treating me like some sort of personal ambassador to the President himself. I flew over here on United Airlines, not Air Force One.
Hence, I started donning the Canadian lapel pin. It signaled a “No Fly” zone of sorts, alerting people that I had no opinion whatsoever about anything, let alone topics with political undertones. (Chocolate or vanilla? Either’s fine. Democrat or Republican? Undecided. Life or death? Sure.)
I felt like one of those asexual bugs or flowers that you read about in biology class: neither male nor female, plant nor animal, simply Canadian. I made me seem invisible (if the Invisible Man had a nationality, I’d bet the house he’s a Maple Leaf). Once I started wearing the pin, the rapid-fire questions stopped. Topics were kept to safer subjects like the weather, local hot spots, best restaurants, and I enjoyed the freedom of easy conversation.
These days, I wear no pins or flags when traveling and have instituted a self-imposed “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy: If asked my nationality, I tell them I’m American, but pre-empt the conversation with “I’d rather not talk politics, thanks.” When further pressed, I tell them to just take off. Beauty, eh?
