South of the Mason Dixon

Everyone knows that I'm not crazy about the South.  I used to live in Alabama and North Carolina, and last summer my parents retired to South Carolina.  I'm here for 2 days and my accent comes back full force.  Suddenly, monosyllabic words become polysyllabic and I find myself saying "ma'am" and "sir" at the end of everything.  Everyone is more polite than I'm used to, spending the past 2 years in New Jersey and 10 before that in Philly.  I'm not sure I like it.

In July, one of my closest friends is getting married and I'm lucky enough to be a bridesmaid.  I'm so happy and grateful to be an integral part of her special day; however, it makes one think about the commercialization and production of the modern bride (and what her closest friends must endure).  So far, nothing has been required of me other than the obligatory purchase of the dress, which in turn led me to the most humiliating experience of my twenties: buying a foundation garment with my mother.  This upcoming weekend is her bachelorette weekend in Tybee Island, Georgia.  It'll be fun; I'm excited.  I'll report back.

What makes the upcoming wedding even funnier for me is that I'll probably be the only Yankee there.  So it'll be "yes ma'am, no sir, thank you ma'am, thank you sir," the whole time I'm in Georgia.  I'll have to take out my multiple piercings so as not to induce heart attack on the conservative elderly who refer to that time between 1861-1865 as the "War of Northern Aggression."  Also, I'd like to avoid any awkward stares and questions and comments such as, "What's that hanging out of your lip?"