Reflections on the South

After completing my cross-country drive through the heartland of America, I have drawn some conclusions about the land of God's country.

The clothes:
The standard uniform for every blue collar white southern man is simple:
1. You start with a pair of slightly muddy work boots
2. Above those are the light denim pair of walmart bought wranglers
3. Tucked into those bad boys is a dirty t-shirt with the logo of the place they work.. or some kind of gun club--in the shade of white, brown, or black
4. all this is topped off with a dirty baseball cap, preferably camoflage

The food:
Every meal is unhealthy. If you order a potato, it must be deep fried in lard and slathered with butter. If you order a piece of chicken, it must be breaded, fried, and served with a side-bowl of ranch dressing. If you order a waffle, the batter must a half/half mixture of sugar and butter, and then topped with butter and sugar. If you order a salad or anything under 5,000 calories, you just get a blank stare.

The food though, as a result, is delicious. I'm surprised I made it out without developing a cholesterol induced heart murmur.

The people:
As a result of thousands of hours of bible study and sermons, the people are pretty nice. Eye contact is an immediate invitation to a "hello ya'll." And a "hello ya'll" back is an invitation to a conversation about the weather. Lucky, being a traveler, the kindness of these people were a valuable resource to gain information about short-cuts or the location of the best feed-hole within 50 miles.

Other things:
1. Every other billboard is about god, jesus or an ad for a gun show
2. Its extremely and uncomfortably hot and humid--I think the southern united states is 80% swamp
3. Every car is American made---and has a minimum of 3 bumper stickers...which are usually about liberals or what they'll do to drivers who ride too close to them

All in all though, it was a pretty fun place, a good experience, and an interesting insight into this county. Mix and match some clothes, some ingrained ideals, a gun rack or two, and you have anyone in the U.S.