Friday night I met up with Tiffany, an ADPi from my UCLA days, and her friends to see THE HUNGER GAMES.
It was so nice to have a group of girls get together and go out on a Friday night... although I will announce one thing -- GEORGETOWN IS NO WHERE NEAR ANY REASONABLE METRO STOP. Rude. I walked at least 20 minutes from the Foggy Bottom metro stop with the sun in my eyes. Unacceptable.
I really enjoyed the movie, as reading the trilogy basically took over my life for a weekend in October. Could not put the books DOWN!
Here's the meat of this post -- it involves my first interaction with the most Southern person I have ever met, and our interesting, if not challenging, conversation. We both looked at each other as if we had an extra head at one point or another. I probably had that look on my face most of the time, due to trying to understand his accent. Anyway, below is my absolute confusion/interaction with him.
This morning I had grand plans to go to the Eastern Market Swap Meet, but the weather forecast accurately predicted rain, and I did not go. Instead I met up for brunch with my two coworkers Carlie and Brittney, and their two roomies, Cecelia and Margaret, and Margaret's coworker, Stevan (pronounced STEH-vehn).
HE IS SO SOUTHERN. He made it very clear to me that there was a difference between being "from the south" and "southern" and he was a southern gentleman. He also announced he didn't wear his BELT BUCKLE since it was a casual brunch but then pointed out to me that he was classy enough at this brunch to be wearing a needlepoint belt.
I'm sorry. What? A needlepoint belt? What decade are you from? He's from Florida, but goes to school at USC... University of Southern Carolina (yeah, don't worry, I was very confused for a while too... because he would probably be eaten alive in the ghetto that is USC LA version). His next great magic trick was to ask me if I recognized the pattern on his belt. Thinking that he assumed that since I was female, I must know my needlepoint patterns, I'm sure I made some witty response. No, no. He meant the graphic pattern. Nope. A tree silhouette on the night sky?
He told me the pattern on his belt was that of the South Carolina flag, and was mildly horrified I didn't recognize it. His response was to ASK ME IF I WAS AMERICAN. Are you KIDDING me? Allegedly the South Carolina flag is the most widely used state flag symbol after Texas. Well la-di-dah. WHY WOULD I KNOW THAT? WHY DID YOU ASK IF I WAS AMERICAN?
To follow up his question on my citizen-status, he asked how could I follow sports if I didn't know the states and their schools? I answered I didn't watch sports and didn't really follow any particular team, but that I had made a bracket at work (though UCONN failed me in the second round... dangit!). He STARED at me as if I had taken my crab benedict and put it on my head instead of in my mouth. He then asked me again if I was American, but then answered his own question by telling me that it must be that I'm from California and don't really have any sports to support anyway.
This creature from the south. Sorry. This "Southern" creature baffled me. I was not aware that my American-status could be put in jeopardy simply by not knowing all the state flags or creating a decent basketball bracket or knowing the best college football teams. At one point in elementary school I'm sure I LEARNED all the flags. Heck, I did a report on Montana in 4th grade, and it was AWESOME. Sports were not really ever my "thing," though I don't mind sitting on the couch with friends and family and watching a game or even going to one.
I know most of the countries of the world and can point them out on a map. I wonder how many people can claim that. Actually, if you gave me a blank map of the USA, I could point out where probably 48 of the states are correctly, knowing full well that I always get the ones around the Mississippi River as it heads north mixed up. THAT'S RIGHT. I KNOW WHERE THE MISSISSIPPI RIVER GOES. But here is this guy asking me if I am American, and making me feel like I'm some sort of idiot. If I gave him a map of Africa or South America, could HE tell ME where something was? What about the flag of Egypt, which I recognized the other day when heading into the NW District?!?! Would HE have known it was the Egyptian Embassy?
After brunch we walked back to Union station together, and we talked about clothes. He sounded horrified that California, in my words, is very diverse and is based on the "individual" style. Stevan said he and his dad basically dressed the same and that was what most of his friends and family dressed like as well. Except he didn't like Rainbow sandals, which are allegedly popular there. Those blessed shoes grace my feet more often than I cook food when I'm home.
Also, he made it a point to inform me that they don't wear cargo pants like "you Californians" do, and his shorts all fall directly above the knee. I should have given him a gold star or a cookie. Well, no, those rare treats should have been bestowed when he informed me he had brought 6 suits and 2 sport coats to DC, and that all of his suits were tailored. WHO ARE YOU AND WHERE DO YOU COME FROM? While I am ALL for a man who can dress well, people our general age don't own a wide selection of suits, nevermind have them tailored. In fact, most of the guys here that I know have one or two suits and just keep changing out the shirt/tie combo. That seems easier to me, and provides more money for things you need..... like FOOD.
Anyway, to address the "California Clothing Crisis" -- you have Southern California, where people wear more casual clothes, LA where people are more into making a"statement", then Central Valley where there is a lot of agriculture and yes, cowboys (because this is what Stevan referred to... he knew about the cowboys in California... I'm sorry... THAT's your impression?), and the farther north you go, the more environmental/hippie/free-flow you get. This is my very base assessment of California style.
I told him about my brother, who loves wearing suits to Debate competitions, but every Wednesday night goes and shoots trap. This pleased Master Stevan, and said that all his friends were well dressed but knew how to shoot properly as well. Um, I wasn't aware these two great feats were mutually exclusive, but I'm very proud you can tout this accomplishment.
We parted for our trains on very good terms. There was no bad blood despite our "heated" conversations with respect to our different views on things (although I don't know if I can ever bridge that gap knowing he doesn't like Rainbow sandals....). I enjoyed, on the whole, my introduction to a truly southern person, and he provided excellent entertainment for me.
At the very least, it's good to know that should I ever take up needlepoint again, there is an excellent southern market for belts.
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