Canadian Tuxedo

That guy had to know he was tipping me in foreign currency, right? I mean, he paid in American dollars and cents, spoke with no accent, and ordered the largest size possible, yet, into the tip jar, he threw two Canadian quarters. Was this some accident? Is he, in fact, Canadian, and I just didn’t realize he was wearing, like, a denim tuxedo? He was friendly… but too friendly? Canadian friendly? Is it only Canadians who are friendly with such abandon as to become notoriously known for it? Why aren’t they all stuck-up and self-righteous? Is it their government? Or is it because of the lack of billboards sprinkled sparsely across the Canadian landscape? Could it be insecurity? Is he embarrassed to be Canadian but has some bizarre urge to express his citizenship or loyalty? And, “nice weather, eh?” Lots of people end their open thoughts like that, right? Eh? That’s not exclusively done by Canucks. Maybe it’s actually underhandedness. Maybe this guy knows that I have very little use for fifty Canadian cents and he wants to rub it in my face. Like, “here’s a parachute,” or, “here’s some anti-diarrheal pills.” Y’know, something that could be needed desperately by a person… other than me.  Or maybe it’s that he thinks my work deserves an extra fifty Canadian cents.