VICE Canada Hazed Its Resident American for Canada Day

This sums up my day. Sad and wearing goalie pads backwards. Photo via Josh Visser

I'm American, and I've been living in Canada for four years this month. Four years and I still don't fucking get it: your strange culture of plastic-bagged milk, an identity intertwined with a single ice-based sport, a people known primarily for one defining characteristic—politeness. My Canadian editors have constantly put up with my American antics over the time we've worked together. A patriotism that waxes and wanes so volatilely from avoiding my home country for six months at a time and openly considering renouncing my American citizenship, to taking my vacation time to go to a desert in Texas and get a USDA stamp tattooed on my ass.

Speaking of citizenship, I've accepted the fact that I will never have one of the Canadian variety. I have a work permit and will be applying for my permanent resident card (Canadian for "green card"), but since the only additional advantages a Canadian citizenship would grant me would be an extra passport and the right to vote here, there's not exactly a point. (If Trump, Donald becomes the next American president, I may have to reconsider of course.) Anyway, since I'll never be a true Canadian despite my intentions to stay in this beautiful country of the north for the foreseeable future, I allowed my coworkers to put me through a series of Canadian hazing rituals to ensure I become the most Canadian I can without actually being granted a citizenship.

Morning

I started off my morning by waking up and listening to CBC Radio One, some show called The Current while I put on my "Canadian tuxedo"—an outfit of all denim. The radio show hosts were going on about how robots are going to steal farmers' jobs, and before I knew it, it was time to go get my assigned breakfast: a double double and Timbits from Tim Hortons. On the way there—and in fact, on my way anywhere during this tyrannical day—I had to listen to the Tragically Hip's greatest hits. It was certainly tragic and not exactly what I would call hip, but editors' orders are editors' orders. I liked "Grace, Too" though.