On Why I Was Glad to Get Out Of Canada

Jeremy and I made the mistake of going to Tim Horton’s  two days in a row. Tim Horton’s is a Canadian restaurant famous for donuts, I think. And while the donuts are tasty and the coffee is sweet, their service is terrible!

And even worse than that, they don’t take Visa. Who doesn’t take Visa?? So when they politely decline my credit card, I am obviously forced to give them cash or go without. This wasn’t a problem in Whitehorse.

In Canada. Paid with American money. No big.

So the next day, we go back to Tim’s in Ft St John, and of course the guy behind the counter is impossible. When I asked him if I could get a donut instead of hash browns he said, “Go for it.” Like, um…  okay. And then he tells me they don’t take Visa, which I’d conveniently fogotten, so I pulled out my American cash, as I’d done so innocently the day before, and he LAUGHED at me.

And all of a sudden I was THAT GUY.

Can you imagine if you’re working at Starbucks and some dude comes in and hands you a Canadian dollar bill, like it’s nothing? I guess maybe I’d laugh too. But it’s not like we weren’t in the middle of nowhere, with plenty of people just driving on through; I would kind of think they’d be used to it by now.

In any case, with the embarrassment, and the constant worry of cash versus credit and the inevitable butload of conversion charges I’m going to end up paying, feeling like an “American Tourist” every time I got out of the car, let me just be honest when I say that I was actually relieved when we crossed the US border into Montana.

Oh. And I guess this means they probably sussed me out.

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