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Hm. They must have had the wrong shoes.


Nah, it's more charming episodes like being referred to as "The nigger's kid" openly (confused the hell out of me, as I was used to my dad being mistaken for a dominican), the ever popular good hartland introductory conversation of:

"Where you from?"
"New York"
"Are ya a jew?" (I'll give you a pass on this one if the first thing that comes up in conversation when you visit a big city is "Do you live in a single or double wide?" or "who's the better lay, your sister or your cousin?")

Or my personal favorite "where you from?" "The Bronx" followed by a desperate clutching of one tacky wallmart naugahyde puse (as if I'd be caught dead carrying that! ). While I enlarge that piece of scar tissue on my inner lip by biting on it, as I am on their turf and feel I should respect their culture, no matter how strongly I feel they're gutter trash.

Yeah, rural America. Found it just so wonderful I could pee my pants with excitement waiting for a return visit.


And even the hillfolk (oh, the conversations I heard that day) at my cousin's wedding wanted to know WTF the dude in the cargo shorts was thinking. And I heard these same people talkin about how uppity the bride had gotten with education (prison hairdressing school and a GED).
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Heather

"I distrust those people who know so well what God wants them to do because I notice it always coincides with their own desires." -Susan B Anthony