Sipping My Tim Hortons: The Sociology of Being Miles Away from America During Key Historical Moments
As we know, we're living in an age where social media allows us to witness and experience historical events at a rapid pace. Consequently, we also move past these issues increasingly fast, as they don't have the same power as the less frequent ones. (This happens because our brains are overwhelmed by the constant influx of information, causing us to become desensitized to events that would have once shocked us. It's like eating too much candy – eventually, even the sweetest treat loses its appeal.)
I was lucky enough to travel to Canada with my mom as a post-graduate gift. Upon arriving in Vancouver, we got off the plane into an Uber and headed to our hotel, which just happened to be adjacent to the iconic coffee venue, Tim Hortons. We walked in the doors, greeted by the sight of coffee-stained countertops and wood-paneled walls framed in red. The aroma of hour-old Timbits (also known as munchkins to us Americans) wafted through the air, creating a quintessentially Canadian atmosphere.
As I scrolled through Twitter (as one does while waiting on their latte), I saw that Trump had possibly been shot at a rally in Butler, PA. I was hesitant to react given today's reputation for hyperbole meme form to search for some quick cash. I didn't realize the historical moment occurring until my dad called, exclaiming, "Did you hear what happened? Are you ok?"
Me: "What?"
Dad: "Trump got shot!"
Me: "Oh! Well, I'm in Canada so I’m good."
I said that as if I was shielded by the maple leaf that adorns Canada’s flag, I felt I had nothing to worry about - no angry riots avenging Trump’s assassination attempt, no fear I could be violently attacked for my orientation and expression. I was in the land of syrup and smiles, surrounded by the stereotype of calm, collected, and compassionate citizens. I was in Canada, I had no worries. This says a lot about America – if I had been in Los Angeles, I would have been concerned about potential public uproar. Often, freeways get blocked by protesters, police are called on students peacefully demonstrating, and it's been anything but calm this past year. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for protests and the freedom of speech and expression, that; 's how change happens! But a riot of angry Trump idolizers is much different and much scarier. As the week went on, more information about the shooting came out – the demographics of one, Thomas Matthew Crooks. I was fascinated, I could learn about the event without worry of gunfire or revolution At home, I don't even frequent movie theaters because time and time again, aggravated, gun-slinging citizens showcase that we can't be safe anywhere – be it a 4th of July parade in Highland Park, IL, or a kindergarten classroom.
My final day in Vancouver was marked by long lines at airport baggage check-in and yet another historical event. Standing in front of United terminal's Tim Hortons (a different location with the exact ambiance of the previous) it was announced that Joe Biden had dropped out of the presidential election. All Gen Z stamina unraveled from there. The moment I found out, I relayed a copy-pasta text (essentially a comically vulgar and emoji-filled text chain that tens to circulate around pop culture events), and before I knew it, all my favorite social media sites were riddled with memes stating "project coconut is a go" and "don't cry because it's Joe-ver, smile be-Kamaluse it happened." Meme culture is so powerful among our generation because it allows us to process complex emotions and events through humor and shared experiences. Memes can bring a populace together by creating a common language and shared understanding of current events, no matter how diverse the groups may be.
Sitting at that gate, waiting for my plane back to the US, I saw political solidarity for the first time in a long time. People were praising Biden for making a hard yet necessary move for the health and longevity of our democracy. Being in Canada during these events offered a unique perspective – not a single person uttered Trump's not Biden’s name, no public hissy fits or even angsty discourse. It was cordial.
And here's the thing about being miles across the Canadian border during these monumental moments: the feelings I had might have been drastically different if I'd been home. In the US, these events would have been immediate, pressing, and possibly frightening. But in Canada, sipping my Tim Hortons, they felt almost like watching a movie – real, but somehow distant.
This distance allowed me to see the bigger picture, and to appreciate the nuances of these historical moments without being swept up in the immediate emotional reactions. It reminded me that sometimes, we need to step back from our own narratives to truly understand the stories unfolding around us.
As I boarded my plane back to the US, clutching my last Canadian coffee, I realized that the true value of travel isn't just in the places we see, but in the perspectives we gain. And maybe, just maybe, the key to understanding our own country better is to view it from the other side of a border, through the steam of a Tim Hortons cup.
