Friday, July 25, 2008

Dallas/Fort Worth international Airport (DFW)



March 2004, Cowtown Bar, I Hope Michael Moore Reads This

"It's not as good as you think." She tells me, taking a big swig of her Molson.

"Really?"

"No. A lot of Canadians come to the U.S. for surgeries."

"Why?"

"Because they don't have to wait," she raises her eyebrows.

"But do they pay for American surgeries?" I ask, picturing the bills for thousands and thousands of dollars.

"Yes."

I gasp. "The cost beats the wait?" This is very hard to believe!  I thought Canadians loved their healthcare!  

"Yes."

"Wow. That's pretty bad."

She is a short haired women in khaki pants and a plain white t-shirt.  She appears to be neat and orderly and wears burgundy tinged rectangular glasses.  She is sitting alone at the corner of the bar when I join her. She starts the conversation by asking, "Where ya headed?"  I respond and ask her the same question.

"Montreal."

"Are you Canadian?" I ask.

"I live there, but I grew up in San Antonio.  I was there for my mother's funeral."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"She was old," She says, shrugging and gulping her beer.

We talk about old age, retirement and nursing homes, which leads us to the topic of socialized healthcare.

I take away two morals: 1.) The grass is always greener, and 2.) If you've got the money you can get the services, but you might not want to get them in Canada unless you've got a lot of time on your hands and you'd prefer to spend the money on jewels or trips to expensive places like Moscow.