I Have Been Assimilated.

Recently Sean and I were standing on the sidewalk in front of our house looking at the trees between the sidewalk and the house. We were trying to decide whether or not to cut a large pine down. A small Audi swerved to the side of the road close to me. I sighed. Massachusetts plates. Obviously lost. I mosied on down the sidewalk before my dog could jump up on their car and scratch the nice paint job. It was a young couple, very nicely dressed. She had on Chanel sunglasses and an expensive jacket. I became acutely aware of my three layers of fleece, no makeup, and dirt covered jeans. The man said "We are looking for Route 15."

Without missing a beat, without even thinking, I furrowed my brow and said "Well you are goin' the WRONG way!".

The couple just smiled tiredly at me. They KNEW they were going the wrong way, that's why they asked for directions.

I realized in that moment that I had become the Vermonter that I would tell stories about to my Massachusetts friends when I would return to the safety and anonimity of the city. I was alternately horrified and hysterical. I couldn't explain to them that I was once like them, and I knew what they were thinking. I just pointed them in the right direction, took my lab and the chainsaw and headed back down the driveway.