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dxiseodwo. Good point. People around the Buffalo area and then Chautauqua County are among the nicest people I've ever met. Even most NYC people I've dealt with face to face have been fine and only occasionally have I run into a problem with people in NYC.
LA, easily. Or, to be more specific, the little enclave known as Hollywood.
Okay, my brother is a screenwriter out there, and gets engaged to an LA girl. So we fly out there from Alabama for the wedding.
Now, mind you, we all dress well, have excellent manners, have postgraduate degrees, use proper grammar, know what a fish fork is for, and know what wine to order with dinner. Yet, the California people either ignored us or treated us as if we were the Joads, just pulled in on the flatbed truck with tattered clothes and all our belongings, with a coondog baying in the back.
Meanwhile, most of these LA types looked as if they had just tumbled out of bed, and were only interested in talking to other LA types.
At one point, one guy tried to be nice and approached me for a conversation. He asked me, "Now you're from Alabama, right?" And, grateful for somebody to talk to, I said yes.
With that, he asked me, "Now, were you excited to get on a plane and come allllll the way out here?" Yes, he really said that.
Without missing a beat, I replied, "Well, I'll tell you what was really exciting about this wedding."
"What's that?"
"These here are only the second pair of shoes I've ever owned."
At that point, he looked at me and said, "I said something wrong, didn't I?"
To which I replied, "No, you meant well. We've just been dealing with this all night." After that we have a fairly nice conversation.
Later, I was seated next to Courtney Thorne Smith (Like I said, it was a Hollywood wedding). I tried to start a couple of times, but I was studiously ignored. So, finally, I tapped her on the shoulder, and asked her, "Weren't you in some movie about ten years ago with Mark Harmon named Summer School?" This was 1995, when Melrose Place was all the rage.
She looked at me, for a moment, and finally replied, "Yes, I was."
To which I said, "Oh, good. I thought I recognized you. What do you do now?"
After that, we had a cordial conversation.I don't think she ever realized that she had been had.
The only nice Hollywood type there was Susan Anton. She was just great to talk to. The rest of them could have washed out into the Pacific Ocean as far as I was concerned. The marriage, mercifully, lasted about two months. My brother has since had the common sense to marry a woman for her brains and personality, rather than her cup size.
I actually met some of the nicest people in the states listed. I really have found some of the most rude and thoughtless people here in Oregon, and I am from Massachusetts.
LA, easily. Or, to be more specific, the little enclave known as Hollywood.
Okay, my brother is a screenwriter out there, and gets engaged to an LA girl. So we fly out there from Alabama for the wedding.
Now, mind you, we all dress well, have excellent manners, have postgraduate degrees, use proper grammar, know what a fish fork is for, and know what wine to order with dinner. Yet, the California people either ignored us or treated us as if we were the Joads, just pulled in on the flatbed truck with tattered clothes and all our belongings, with a coondog baying in the back.
Meanwhile, most of these LA types looked as if they had just tumbled out of bed, and were only interested in talking to other LA types.
At one point, one guy tried to be nice and approached me for a conversation. He asked me, "Now you're from Alabama, right?" And, grateful for somebody to talk to, I said yes.
With that, he asked me, "Now, were you excited to get on a plane and come allllll the way out here?" Yes, he really said that.
Without missing a beat, I replied, "Well, I'll tell you what was really exciting about this wedding."
"What's that?"
"These here are only the second pair of shoes I've ever owned."
At that point, he looked at me and said, "I said something wrong, didn't I?"
To which I replied, "No, you meant well. We've just been dealing with this all night." After that we have a fairly nice conversation.
Later, I was seated next to Courtney Thorne Smith (Like I said, it was a Hollywood wedding). I tried to start a couple of times, but I was studiously ignored. So, finally, I tapped her on the shoulder, and asked her, "Weren't you in some movie about ten years ago with Mark Harmon named Summer School?" This was 1995, when Melrose Place was all the rage.
She looked at me, for a moment, and finally replied, "Yes, I was."
To which I said, "Oh, good. I thought I recognized you. What do you do now?"
After that, we had a cordial conversation.I don't think she ever realized that she had been had.
The only nice Hollywood type there was Susan Anton. She was just great to talk to. The rest of them could have washed out into the Pacific Ocean as far as I was concerned. The marriage, mercifully, lasted about two months. My brother has since had the common sense to marry a woman for her brains and personality, rather than her cup size.
This was the best story I've read in a long time It's amazing how some people view the south. I think your quick sense of humor is great.
SF AREA in my souvenirs is worse : I visited some friend's friends in Atherton, and they studiously avoided me, I could have been hot air.
Not to speak of the French expats of the Bay Area, they think they are "la créme de la créme" and I don't see why.
On the other hand as a teen I met Barbet Schroeder at Chateau something (the old hotel in Hollywood where the old stars sojourned) and he was OK, he didn't try to make a pass at me! (lol)
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It's amazing how some people view the south. I think your quick sense of humor is great.