KevinM
Senior member
- Joined
- Mar 30, 2019
- Messages
- 559
- Reason
- Other
- Diagnosis
- 00/0000
- Country
- US
- State
- FL
- City
- Tallahassee
It’s a rainy afternoon here in Tallahassee, and my memories have taken me back to one of the funniest stories I ever heard about life in the swampy woodlands and small towns of my beloved part of the world. For the more sophisticated and urbane among you, this slice of American life might seem shocking. So be it. I just find it damn funny.
First, the lay of the land. Tallahassee proper is a lovely, progressive town with nice weather eight months of the year, hills (yes hills!) and so many trees that one can barely see buildings and homes from the air. The hills flatten abruptly a mile south of town as the terrain changes to the sandy coastal plain leading the 25 miles down to the coast. And believe me, the culture changes more than the geography.
On the way to Appalachee Bay you pass through the little river community of Sopchoppy, home to the annual worm grunting festival (look it up), a highlight of the towns social calendar. A little further south the road from Tally dead ends in the town of St. Marks.
Known mostly for its access to the Bay from the beautiful St. Marks River and the expansive St. Marks NWR, which was the general location of the 2018 movie Annihilation, it is truly old Florida. Only a short drive from the “big” city, it feels like another planet entirely. And it is there where our little story takes place.
About ten years ago, the nonprofit I worked for hired a temporary admin. assistant named Vivian, a friendly redhead that had grown up as a St, Marksian before moving west to THE big city, Los Angeles. The 15 of us used to eat lunches together in the conference room, and we always asked new employees to tell something about themselves. When we asked Vivian for her story, what followed was a hilarious tale that had us shooting water through our noses.
In LA Vivian fell for a guy, and brought her very urban boyfriend home one summer to meet the family. She tried to caution him in advance about the, uh, different ways down there, to which he replied, “don’t worry, I’ve been around and seen pretty much everything.” Nope. Not even close.
Upon arriving at the homestead tucked way back in the sandy, piney woods, they were greeted by a dozen freshly killed squirrels hanging upside down from the tree in the front heard. Dinner! The boyfriends eyes widened, but he said nothing.
As they sat awkwardly on the couch exchanging small talk after lunch, Vivian’s uncle woke up and made his way from the back bedroom. He was still wearing the dirty, blood caked overalls from that mornings hunt, and with a grunt in their direction headed over to the old ham radio in the corner. Picking up the microphone, he pointed it at his ass and farted loudly into it. Shortly after, a crackling voice came back...”Roscoe, is that you?” LA this was not.
According to Vivian, the boyfriend didn’t say much on the flight back. She thinks he was in shock, and unfortunately they parted ways a bit later. Vivian said that was okay, because it was her family, after all.
I still crack up thinking about it all these years later. Kevin
First, the lay of the land. Tallahassee proper is a lovely, progressive town with nice weather eight months of the year, hills (yes hills!) and so many trees that one can barely see buildings and homes from the air. The hills flatten abruptly a mile south of town as the terrain changes to the sandy coastal plain leading the 25 miles down to the coast. And believe me, the culture changes more than the geography.
On the way to Appalachee Bay you pass through the little river community of Sopchoppy, home to the annual worm grunting festival (look it up), a highlight of the towns social calendar. A little further south the road from Tally dead ends in the town of St. Marks.
Known mostly for its access to the Bay from the beautiful St. Marks River and the expansive St. Marks NWR, which was the general location of the 2018 movie Annihilation, it is truly old Florida. Only a short drive from the “big” city, it feels like another planet entirely. And it is there where our little story takes place.
About ten years ago, the nonprofit I worked for hired a temporary admin. assistant named Vivian, a friendly redhead that had grown up as a St, Marksian before moving west to THE big city, Los Angeles. The 15 of us used to eat lunches together in the conference room, and we always asked new employees to tell something about themselves. When we asked Vivian for her story, what followed was a hilarious tale that had us shooting water through our noses.
In LA Vivian fell for a guy, and brought her very urban boyfriend home one summer to meet the family. She tried to caution him in advance about the, uh, different ways down there, to which he replied, “don’t worry, I’ve been around and seen pretty much everything.” Nope. Not even close.
Upon arriving at the homestead tucked way back in the sandy, piney woods, they were greeted by a dozen freshly killed squirrels hanging upside down from the tree in the front heard. Dinner! The boyfriends eyes widened, but he said nothing.
As they sat awkwardly on the couch exchanging small talk after lunch, Vivian’s uncle woke up and made his way from the back bedroom. He was still wearing the dirty, blood caked overalls from that mornings hunt, and with a grunt in their direction headed over to the old ham radio in the corner. Picking up the microphone, he pointed it at his ass and farted loudly into it. Shortly after, a crackling voice came back...”Roscoe, is that you?” LA this was not.
According to Vivian, the boyfriend didn’t say much on the flight back. She thinks he was in shock, and unfortunately they parted ways a bit later. Vivian said that was okay, because it was her family, after all.
I still crack up thinking about it all these years later. Kevin
