The Comfy Corner

Last week I was waiting tables when a woman stopped me by grabbing my arm and asked me (in the most stereotypical way imaginable), "You ain't from 'round here are ya?" I responded in my usual way, "No mam, I'm not. I live in New York." She then smiled a toothy smile and knowingly replied, "Yeah, I could tell by your pants that you've never stepped off a sidewalk before." To which she slapped me on the back in that joking Southwestern way and I politely laughed and then walked away in that state of confusion where you are trying to decipher whether or not you should be offended. I don't feel particularly "New York." I've only lived there like four months. I was just wearing dress pants. Yeah, they were skinny and fit me well, but I didn't think they particularly screamed, "I've never left a sidewalk!"

So several days later, after digesting this comment and analyzing it, I have decided that yes, I am indeed offended. I'm from North Carolina. I'm a Southern boy at heart. I spent the first 19 years of my life not caring what I was wearing just like the rest of the people here in Colorado. Hell, I was practically born in a pair of cargo pants! And I'm an Eagle scout. I've probably walked more miles on trails than I have on sidewalks. And I've probably canoed more miles on rivers than this woman ever will in her life.

So, yeah. I've changed a lot on the outside since I left the South. My clothes fit a little better, I own more than one pair of shoes, I moisturize with Mary Kay facial products, but deep down I've still got grit under my nails, I can tie a clove hitch double half hitch no problem, and I've still got a pair of waterproof camo pants in my North Carolina closet (where they will remain until I'm in the wilderness). I may have a taste for fine wine, but I can also drink Tang and eat corned beef hash with the rest of these Coloradans.  So sidewalks be damned, New York City, you will never take that away from me. Stay comfy y'all.