In case the news wasn’t’ already out, I’m from a small town. Like, don’t-need-proof-of-insurance-because-everyone in-the-County-Clerk-office-knows-your-dad-is-an-insurance-salesman small. (Yes that’s happened the past two years while paying my tags.) With a population of 4,334 (according to Wikipedia) and a community where everyone knows everyone … and their corresponding beeswax, my hometown has been the source of a lot of weird shiz over the years.
Like the above. Or how there is almost never a line in the post office or bank. No, seriously. How my Aunt and Uncle live directly across the street from my grandparents. (After my cousin and his betrothed purchased their old house.) Or when there was a bomb threat and I picked up my siblings and cousins – all in one stop – from the church they’d been bussed to. Also the time I went to visit my Mom and cousin at their joint place of work, and ran into my Grandpa on his bus route on the way in. And in the five minutes I was talking to him, Grandma stopped by.
In non-related news, the event caused me to learn I’m not much taller than the average third grader.
Other Things That Have Taken Place
• I’m asked about Dorothy and/or Toto EVERY time I tell someone where I’m from. Is this joke not old yet? Haven’t we moved on to references of the BTK or Paul Rudd? Either option would be more enjoyable.
• Entered the local donut shop, heard “That’s a Wallace,” and looked around to see unfamiliar elderly faces.
• Been sold a van at-cost with a post-dated check. Which was then sold at a profit.
• Had entire conversations with folks who ask about my parents, without knowing who I’m speaking with.
• My car was spray painted (in the rain; it didn’t stick) by a pack of 7th grade girls. They got in a fight and outed one another two days later – amateur criminals. But only after I’d talked with the six others around town who were hit. A local guy buffed it out, for free.
• Someone has “a guy” for everything. Including pre-market livestock and cheap NASCAR tickets. And also obtaining same-day kittens.
• When I tell someone where I’m from and they ask if I know so-and-so. Ninety percent of the time, I do.
• Am asked “Which one are you?” or “Who do you belong to?” at least once per month. Even outside of said hometown’s limits. I’ll let you know if it ever stops getting old.