Dissed 'Americans'

Why am I so sensitive to loud Americans? I’m pretty sure we’re not all loud. Are we? Monday night I went to a networking event where a Canadian hockey player spoke to a group of diverse students and professionals about leadership potential and following your dream. Now, I am a HUGE fan of leadership development and motivational presentations. Huge. However, when the speaker is a really loud American, I want to run away and hide. I realize I’m a cynic at times in the purest form, but come on! Without sounding too harsh or cynical, this guy’s booming voice made my skin crawl! I met him about 5 minutes before he went up on stage to begin. Here’s how it went:

Mark (Speaker): “Hi! (Volume 9 on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the loudest). I’m Mark. Salerno… what kind of a name is that?!?! Where are you from?!?!”
Me: “I’m, American.”
Mark: “Where are you from in America!?!?”
Me: “I’m from all over: My family’s in California. I lived in Oregon and Washington for most of my life, then Boston for school and work.”
Mark: “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. Blah!! Blah! I am going to speak now! Bye!!!”

Five minutes into his presentation: “I met a an American woman here tonight… but you know, she says ‘American’ and well, I’m Canadian and I think “American” is really up for discussion… because we are so different…” (Shakes head and laughs). Uh-huh. Okay, That’s interesting because the way I see it, you’re a loud, Canadian hockey player who is blasting us right out of the room with how close you’re speaking to the microphone – people actually have their hands over their ears. Hmmm… For the record, he didn’t inspire anyone with words of wisdom or prophetic insight. He just made people think all “Americans” are loud, opinionated, and have really bad humor. Great. Thanks Dude. Can this particular Canadian not be American tonight please? I know a bunch of Canadians – they’re not all loud. Maybe it’s just a hockey player thing? Doesn’t matter. In the end, all the Europeans I was sitting with at the conference were rolling their eyes and had already made up in their minds that all Americans are loud and obnoxious.

I realize lately that I am a bit sensitive to people trashing Americans (myself included, if you want to include Canadians in the American group). Admittedly, when I hear many Americans talking around town, at a restaurant, on the street or on our travels recently to Greece… I insist on speaking Dutch so no one thinks I’m “one of them.” But who am I kidding?!? I am loud too! Still, it’s a love-hate thing: I love being American. I am American. And yet, so often, I don’t identify myself as an American. It’s a weird, displaced, disowned, simply all-out “dissed” feeling when you’re an expat. I can very easily agree when I hear Europeans say, “Ahhh, Americans. They are loud, wear big white tennis shoes and work too much.” True, true. BUT, I sincerely believe we are a generally lovable lot. We smile a lot, we laugh at funny things, we have excellent business practices (some of the stuff you see around here would make an American choke), and we do have AMAZING food and restaurants. I really could go on forever… I don’t really have a solution to share. I just feel like thinking on paper. And that’s as far as I’ve gotten today on the whole matter.

Okay, what is the deal with people who are selling their house but haven’t even started looking for another house where they’re moving? The sellers of the house I THINK we’re getting want a 4 month move-out period. WT…? That puts us to a March move-in. Uh, no. No thank you. Commuting already is ridiculous for us with 2 hours each way for each person. Ugh. It’s hard to imagine us doing this for another 4 months. I suppose if it’s the way we get this house we want so badly, then we work with it. We’re trying to see if we can negotiate moving in Jan-Feb somewhere. Fingers crossed. When we finally do get a house, sign the financial papers, and move our booties in, I am gonna crack open a big old Grolsch and maybe sleep for 5 days straight. It’s so stressful! And so emotional. You start really imagining yourself in the house, living there, your kitties running around and ruining crap there, eating your breakfast in the new kitchen, reading the Sunday paper in the new living room with the fire toasting your tootsies. People, I’ve got a new life to live! Make it happen.

I think I need to get myself checked into a Mentos-Addict rehabilitation center. I have a problem. They just keep popping into my mouth, one after the other. “Hi, I’m Kristin. And I’m a Mentos-Aholic.” :Hiiiiiiiii Kristin.” Allah, save me!

Random: The other morning it smelled like holy water in the country, driving to work. Things that make you go “huh.”