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Culture Shock

We are redneck hicks and the first to admit it. We stick close to home most of the time, well within our rural comfort zone, and like it that way. Sophisticated world travelers we are not.

However, yesterday the boss wanted to go to Bass Pro Shop up in Utica. Although I didn't know it, he had hopes of getting me an inexpensive spotting scope. I didn't let him, by the way. There are much more important places to put his money, and I am well served by the tools I already have.

However, all the way around the store, we were kinda, sorta, followed, or maybe it was  coincidence, by a strapping tall fellow in a man bun. Now I am sure you have seen the memes on Facebook, where such a hairstyle is equated with the cancellation of the occupant's man card and all, but this guy wasn't bad looking really. I wouldn't have looked at him twice, even with my admittedly sheltered point of view except....

All through the whole store he busily punched his rude card like it was his job. Sneering in a NYC accent at everything and everyone he encountered in the Store. He made fun of binoculars, for Pete's sake. He was big enough to pull it off, but I felt sorry for his girlfriend, who was clearly embarrassed.

Then I thought...maybe a city guy, thrown into a huntin', campin', lots-of-guns-and-gear experience like Bass Pro, was experiencing a little Culture Shock of his own. Had to indulge in a little self-puffery so as not to feel intimidated by all those danger sticks and camouflage tents.

I dunno. It was sure good to get home to the roar of the nearby racetrack and the rustle of the wind in the bare branches though. Guess I'm too old to change.

This post first appeared on Northview Diary, please read the originial post: here

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Culture Shock


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