Saturday, January 31, 2009
Mike and I were shoveling my driveway the other day in order for me to leave my snowbound prison, and this car pulled up and the driver rolled down her window and asked, "Do you know where Dublin Street is?" Granted, I have not lived in DeSoto for very long and can (fortunately) not call myself a native DeSotoan, but all the streets in town have names like 'Pine' and 'Lincoln,' and Dublin just didn't sound right. I told her this, and she informed me that she was looking for an assisted living facility on Dublin Street. I don't even think there is an assisted living facility in town; I mean, this town is tiny. I told her this, also, and then she squinted, looked at me, and asked, "Are you from up North?," to which we replied, "Yes." And she was like, "Oh," and then exasperatedly thanked us for our 'troubles' and drove off. Really? I mean, I know I have had my share of laughs at the expense of native southern Illinoisians, and perhaps this is my payback: to be assumed that I am completely unhelpful when it comes to directions 'round these parts. What a b. Seriously.