Canada
The Forgotten Nation Whose Heart Bears a Maple Leaf
Maple syrup’s my brand, but don’t mistake the bottle for the man.
I wear my heart on my sleeve—literally, it’s got a maple leaf stitched in. I’m the guy who smiles when you step on my foot, then passive-aggressively lectures you about ice cream etiquette for three hours. My brother’s a tornado in a stars-and-stripes hoodie. I’m the calm before his storm, holding a hockey stick and a tub of Moose Tracks. Mistaken for America? Daily. Punched by Cuba? Biweekly. Still waiting for the world to notice my eyebrows.
What I'm Into: hockey nights, maple syrup tastings, surviving Cuba's punches, quietly raging at misunderstandings, my pet bear's sass
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