Europe has always been the place I wanted to be. As a kid I thought James Bond would never come to Canada. I thought of Europe as classy; a place for a guy like me - a slight boy whose best battles were fought with his mind and not his fists. Your world seemed so clean, like a Playmobil set. And you had turtlenecks and Russian spies and razor sharp lines. Well I got my wish, and I now spend about half my time in Europe, mostly in airports and hotels and clubs, where, despite the repetitive surroundings, I believe I have cultivated a solid understanding of what it means to be European. In fact, I would even go a step further and declare that I have almost completely decoded the euromatrix. I KNOW you. I know what a Dutch guy does in a fire, I know how to piss off a Dane; from the perspective of a Finn. When asked to write this piece, I tapped into this reservoir of invaluable data, gleaned from years of travel as an alien observer. Here are the abridged fruits of my labour. Enjoy, European and American alike.