By Francis Horton, an American soldier

Sometime in September or October, I will back myself into the economy class of a 747 and come to you. I hope I get to sit next to one of your fine citizens so I might ask questions during the flight (and perhaps not be squished by one of my own countrymen who has been cheating on their significant other with McDonalds.) There are so many things I don’t know about you that I want to find out.
You see, I am an American. Let me give you a listing of the countries I have been to. Germany, Turkey, Honduras, Kuwait, Afghanistan, Iraq and Kyrgyzstan. Put that all together and you have an American Soldier. I have yet to be to a country that wasn’t taking me to a war zone or third world hellhole of some kind and I want to come to you because I need a place where I am not afraid of being shot or kidnapped for once. Sure there are the seedy parts of Canada, the underground beaver pelt market, the Maple gang who brand leafs into the chests of those who cross them and the most dangerous of all, the hockey fans. However, I am not afraid. I am American. I have been shot at with guns, mortars, Rocket propelled grenades and all manner of improvised explosives. But Canada, I need a break.
I pride myself on not being someone who throws around stereotypes toward people I don’t know. Canada has been referred to as many things, such as America’s hat, Fischer Price America and ‘Oh God, please stop hitting me with a hockey stick’ but it is all in good fun. You are like the younger brother of America. We may give you noogies or Indian burns, but we are secretly jealous of your healthcare system, your lax marijuana laws and beautiful women who are very polite in bed.
You see, America is afraid of change. It’s just the world we live in. When the people who built your country (the workers, not the founding fathers) are so entrenched in a faith which, let’s face it, hasn’t updated their book in the last two millennia, you are forced into a world that is against the ebb and flow of social consciousness. I call this Stupidity. Careful that you don’t catch it.
We are also afraid of genitals and nipples, but that is beside the point. If we can’t blow it up, we don’t want it. America is fueled by energy drinks, cocaine and violence which is why we die earlier than you (according to Wikipedia at least, but that can be changed). I firmly believe I was meant for Canada, not America. I like to relax on occasion, to break away from the insanity which throws itself from office buildings on a daily basis. I need you Canada, for a vacation. Or a Holiday, I’m not too sure what you call it up there.
I came to your country once when I was 12, but don’t count that experience. My father and I drove up from Niagra Falls while we were doing our big Northeast tour just to say we have been. We got lost, of course and stopped to ask directions. I have heard one Canadian in my life speak, and I honestly think he was planted by your government to make Americans feel as though everything we heard was true. He was polite, smiling and said “eh” a lot. Ever since then, I have wanted to return to seek out more like him and to infect my speech with yours. The years I have spent watching various British TV shows has already tailored my speech for them, but I want Canada on my tongue now. My only other experience with Canadians was when I was in Texas covering a story about Canadian soldiers doing war games with Americans. From Quebec, they pretended not to speak English, but I didn’t mind. I was too enamored with these foreign creatures.
To me, your country epitomizes everything I don’t have. You have a truer sense of freedom. Sure, there are places you don’t want to admit that you are an atheist, but I don’t really see too many of your countrymen pointing a finger and banishing you to the circles of hell for it. I bet I can do lots of fun stuff up there without people getting angry or judgmental, and if they do, I’ll be drinking fine beers and immersing myself in culture. Hell, I’ll even bet your women would be flattered if a guy started to flirt with them, regardless of their relationship status. This will be good for me since alcohol makes me very friendly.
Canada, you have always been a good neighbor. You never ask to borrow the snow plow, (usually because yours is better anyway) you don’t play loud music late at night, you always wave when we see you in the driveway which puts us in a better mood, regardless of how we may react, and you are always there for us. You came to Afghanistan, you paid respects after 9/11 and you have no problem helping out if we need it. Sure, you burned down our capitol building, but the British were acting like dicks and you just got caught up in the fray. That isn’t to say we aren’t still your friends. We are looking out for you, even if it seems we might be rude and uncouth. Just remember that if ANYONE ever messes with Canada, they will have an all American boot up their posterior before the enemy reaches the first Tim Hortons.
So Canada, I am coming soon. Not soon enough, obviously since I still have to defend freedom and whatnot in southern Iraq, but I will be there. Hopefully I can find a friendly citizen or two who will show me some of the better places to party in Vancouver. The bars with the prettiest (drunk) women, the architecture, the countryside and all the wonderful people.
Thanks for being there Canada!