We idly chatted in FSI French for a bit, when, looking a bit nervous, he suddenly asked, "You are Americans?"
We steeled ourselves for the onslaught that would come. At the very least we would get a sad-toned explanation about how lamentable it was that our good friends the Americans had lost their collective minds; at worst, we would be called war-mongers and baby-killers. All we wanted was crepes.
"Yes," we said proudly. We don't have time for those lame-asses (or I suppose I should say "lame-arses") who play the Pretend to Be Canadian Game abroad. If we were going to get it, we were going to get it, but we weren't about to hide who we were, sullen crepe makers be damned.
"Well," he said in heavily-accented basic English,"I thought so. I want to tell you something, but the words I do not know too good, so please excuse if I say it wrong." ...
(Yes, you have to go read it to find out what he said. Yes, I'm evil.)
Along these lines, the Daily Demarche carries a post about foreigners talking to Americans which is also worth a read.