Wednesday, August 23, 2017

I'm Sorry, Canada

As much as I hate to admit it, I owe Canada an apology. I've struggled with this for the past 24 hours, because I don't want to apologize. Canada and I don't see eye to eye. It hasn't treated me well in recent visits.

This is the same country:

In short, I don't care much for Canada at the moment, even with its dreamboat of a prime minister. A prime minister who I may or may not have called a bozo in a voicemail message yesterday.

I made the call through the app for Global Citizen, the advocacy organization that stages the annual music festival of the same name in Central Park. It awards free tickets to the festival, via a lottery draw, to "global citizens" who earn points by signing petitions, tweeting messages and calling lawmakers to urge them to take action on social issues such as poverty and education. Sixteen points are required to enter the lottery.

As a global citizen who was still several points shy of being eligible for this year's lottery, I placed the call to ask Prime Minister Trudeau to pledge millions of dollars for global education efforts. And, since I'd have his attention, to pledge one Tim Hortons donut to me.

I was a little nervous, as I'd never called a prime minister before, but thankfully Global Citizen provided a script that I could read verbatim. It was very helpful. In the future, I will be sure to consult Global Citizen before leaving voicemails for prime ministers.

Here's where I made a critical mistake: I made the call while walking home from the subway, and so I didn't give it my undivided attention. To be honest, it didn't have any of my attention when I reached the end of a block on Columbus Ave., saw the pedestrian light on the other side of the crosswalk, and realized I had three seconds to cross the street. Puh-lenty of time for a New Yorker.

I was all set to run to the other side of the street when a bicyclist came barreling toward me in the bike lane. He had no intention of slowing down or swerving out of the way because, well, he was on a bike and knew there was nothing I could do about it. I jumped out of his path and, as he sped past me, yelled out to him, "Bozo!" Actually, it was more like, "BOZO!"

Unfortunately, I was still on the phone and was supposed to leave a message at the tone. I didn't hear a tone, but I'm pretty sure there was a tone, right before the bicyclist nearly flattened me. Meaning the voicemail may have recorded the whole incident, including my very loud and aggressive use of the word "BOZO," a word that wasn't part of the Global Citizen script.

So now I feel compelled to set the record straight.  Prime Minister Trudeau, let me be absolutely clear: You are not a bozo, nor would I ever call you a bozo. On the contrary, I think you are a dreamboat, as I mentioned earlier. Please accept my sincerest apologies, both as a global citizen and as someone who made a regrettable mistake. All I wanted was a moment of your time to ask you to pledge aid to global education efforts on behalf of your country.

I'm sorry, Prime Minister Trudeau. I'm sorry, Canada.

It's all that bozo's fault. He's a terrible global citizen.

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