Ya'll....I'm so drunk

(Don't be alarmed, I'm not really, that's just the title.)

I've been in Omaha for almost exactly a year and a half. I grew up in Carbon Hill, Alabama, a town of about 1900 people with an excellent school system. Most people say I don't have a Southern accent, but people with a good ear for accents can hear it loud and clear. In other words, it's there it's just very...hmm.....educated and correct. I can't help it, I've always talked this way. I can remember when I was growing up adults would ask me "how'd you get to talking so proper?" And I would think, "duh, because I can read and I don't want to slaughter the English language." Flippant thoughts for an 8 or 9 year-old so of course I never said it out loud or I would have gotten smacked across the mouth for it. When I drink at the bar or I'm around other southerners my accent becomes more pronounced.

My favorite bar in Omaha is Mick's. I especially like when there is anyone remotely classical playing. Last Tuesday they had my favorite type of music, rock/pop/folk with classical mixed in. There was a couple called Montana Skies with an electric cello. It was awesome. I was talking to the duo after their set. "What part of the south are you from?" they asked me. "Alabama" I said. "We grew up near Atlanta" they said. I could not hear their accent either so maybe they were avid readers as children, like me.

This week at another restaurant I was asked this question again. I gave my usual answer "Alabama, but people tell me all the time I don't have an accent". One girl said "oh I can hear it" and then she proceeded to ask me to repeat certain words over and over. "Aww, that's so cuuute" the crowd coooed. I have no idea what they were talking about, I didn't hear a thing, but we'd been sitting there since 7:00-ish and by then it was 11:00-ish. I'd had several drinks.

Today on the tiny little plane taking us into Rock Springs, Wyoming the subject came up again. "Oh I love southern accents" the lady in front of me said, "My father was from West Virginia so hearing that accent always makes me feel like home."
"I hear your accent" The guy sitting behind me chimed in. His accent was far more pronounced than mine and I told him so. He was a gentleman too. I haven't gotten motion sickness in years but the plane was moving a lot and I was sitting in the back. I almost passed out once and thought I was going to, well, hurl at least 3 different times. I turned to ask for his help. I didn't want to get sick on the nice lady in front of me. He hastily passed me the white bag from his seat pocket. "Here use this" he said. It turns out he'd spent 3 years in the military in Charleston, South Carolina but now lived back home in Ohio. "3 years?" I asked, "I spent 26 years in Alabama and you sound way more southern than I do." His accent was definitely more pronounced than mine. Or so it seemed to me.

I rarely drink during the day but on this particular occasion I'd had a long layover and had eaten lunch while sitting at a bar. (It's the only place you don't have to sit alone.) I'd gotten into an interesting discussion with an older woman who was a mechanical engineer in the aerospace industry and a young girl who'd recently graduated from nursing school and was going to New Orleans to help with Katrina relief. On the plane, the guy from Alaska sitting two rows ahead and to the right turned and said "Living in Alaska, I LOVE hearing a girl with a southern accent." I think he said something about melting but I'm sure I blushed and turned my head. The blood rushing to my ears made me tune him out.

In Dale Carnegie class we were told that our stories should always have a point, but sometimes mine just don't, or maybe I prefer to leave them open-ended and let people find their own points. So I'll end with a joke:
What is the mating call of the southern belle?
"Ya'll......... I'm so dru-unk".