8 things Canada could actually learn from the US (Canadians, just hear me out)

Sometimes bigger is better

Canadians love making fun of Americans for making everything unnecessarily enormous and, in many cases, fair enough. But after living in the U.S. for 10 years, I have to admit it: sometimes bigger actually is better.

My local movie theatre was recently renovated, and the seats are now basically individual couches. They recline almost completely flat, there's enough room between rows to host a small dinner party.

I don't know how I'm supposed to go back to sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with a stranger for two and a half hours.

And movie theatre popcorn? That's one place I absolutely want American portion sizes. If you're already charging me $12 for popcorn, I don't want a tasteful little paper bag that I'll finish before the previews are over. Give me the bucket. The one that looks like it should come with a forklift. Fill it to the brim and let me take the leftovers home.

The same goes for things like giant drinks on road trips, enormous parking spaces and grocery carts that could comfortably transport a family of four. Do I technically need any of these things to be quite so big? Probably not. Have I become accustomed to them anyway? Absolutely.

Not everything needs to be supersized, but some things were simply waiting for America to supersize them — and I'm no longer too proud to admit it.

Making everything a drive-thru

Americans looked at the McDonald's drive-thru and said, "OK, but what if we did this with everything?"

Coffee shops, pharmacies, banks, dry cleaners, liquor stores — there are very few errands Americans haven't attempted to complete without leaving the car.

Is this contributing to the downfall of society? Possibly. But when you're sick and picking up a prescription or it's pouring rain and you just need a coffee, suddenly it feels like one of humanity's greatest innovations.

Canadians could stand to make a few things unnecessarily convenient.

Blowing their life savings on seasonal decor

Americans will spend an amount of money on seasonal decorations that suggests they believe Halloween is happening for the last time ever.

A couple of pumpkins on the porch? Absolutely not. They need the 12-foot skeleton from Home Depot, a full cemetery on the front lawn, three animatronic witches and enough fake cobwebs to make the house structurally unsound.

Then November 1 hits and somehow $6,000 worth of Christmas decorations materializes overnight.

Canadians decorate too, obviously, but Americans have a level of commitment I deeply respect. There is no tasteful wreath and single strand of lights. If Americans are doing Christmas, they're doing Christmas. The roof is glowing. There are reindeer on the lawn. Santa is being projected onto the garage. It really is Whoville out here in the suburbs.

Is any of this financially responsible? No. Does it make walking around the neighbourhood considerably more fun? Absolutely.

Life can be boring. It can be a slog. The holidays give us something to look forward to, so why not completely lose our minds for a month?

Sometimes tacky is a public service!

Complimenting complete strangers (for no reason)

Americans LOVE a drive-by compliment.

A woman will pass you in a restaurant bathroom, yell, “Oh my God, I love your dress!” and disappear before you even have time to thank her. Someone at the grocery store will tell you your hair looks amazing. Nobody needs to know each other. Nobody needs to make it weird.

Canadians are friendly, but we're a little more restrained with strangers — and, secretly, I think a little more calculating. We tend to put our social energy toward interactions that might come back our way. Americans will hype up a complete stranger they'll never see again, purely because they felt like it.

I've fully adopted the American approach.

If I like your shoes, you're going to hear about it.

Ditching a restaurant after sitting down

Until I moved to the United States, I had never in my life sat down at a restaurant, looked at the menu and then just... left. In Canada, I would sooner order a $40 appetizer I didn't want, spend the entire meal riddled with anxiety and shame, and secretly check my bank account under the table.

Then, one day in the U.S., a friend and I sat down for dinner and checked out the table beside us. The $32 salad was so small it was served on what looked like a bread plate.

I looked at the menu and realized I didn't want anything badly enough to pay those prices. My friend looked at me and said, "F*ck this, let's go." We told the server we were going to bounce and hit the taco stand across the street instead, where tacos were $3 each.

It was liberating. All the adrenaline of a dine-and-dash while keeping my morality completely intact.

Friendliness > Politeness

Canada's whole international brand is that we're nice. After 10 years in America, I think we're actually just polite.

There's a difference.

Canadians are masters of smiling through an interaction while internally begging for it to end. Americans can be brash, loud and occasionally way too honest, but at least you usually know where you stand.

I've grown to appreciate that. Politeness keeps things pleasant. Friendliness actually lets people in.

Uprooting their lives for an opportunity

Americans seem remarkably willing to pack up their entire lives for the possibility of something better.

A job in Austin? They're moving to Texas. Got into school in Boston? See you in four years. Want to make movies? Pack the car, we're going to LA.

Maybe it's because the country is so huge, but there seems to be less attachment to the idea that you have to build your life where you happened to grow up. If a better opportunity is somewhere else, they'll just... go.

And the best part? If it doesn't work out, they'll absolutely move back without shame.

As someone who moved countries for basically the same reason, I obviously endorse this message.

Delusion as a survival instinct

Americans have an incredible capacity to believe that something is going to work out based on absolutely no supporting evidence.

The business is going to take off. They're going to get the job. The screenplay is going to sell. They're moving to New York with $400 and a dream.

Canadians have a little more of a "let's be realistic" instinct, which is probably healthier. But sometimes realism is just pessimism with better PR. Keeping your expectations low is, after all, one way to avoid disappointment.

I've come to appreciate a little American delusion. If you're going to attempt something difficult, you almost have to believe it'll work before there's any reason to.

Sometimes delusion is a survival instinct — and let Jake Paul be proof that, occasionally, it pays off.