As I sit here in my hotel room in Saint Johnsbury, Vermont, getting ready to pack up and head to the airport in Burlington, I ruminate on the things I’ve learned:
- Amaretto and ginger ale is a great combination, and while it may not have a lot of alcohol content, if you drink enough of it, it will knock you on your muthafuckin’ ass.
- There are full-service gas stations here and if you hop out of your car and start pumping your own gas before the dirty, unkempt homeless man gets there, he will come up to you and insist he pump it for you, then charge you a premium for the “privilege”.
- The only nail shop in Saint Johnsbury is still staffed by Asians, and they will look at you like some fat bearded alien if you walk in with bright green toes and ask for a pedicure and polish.
- AT&T’s 3G Network doesn’t mean dick in the state of Vermont. Neither, for that matter, does Verizon’s.
- The security at Burlington airport takes themselves way too seriously given the cute, tiny size of their widdle aiwpowt. Awww. Goochie Goochie goo.
- Weddings outside, under the trees and the grey-blue sky, can feel equally, if not more reverent and special, than ones in a church.
- The state slogan is “Friendly but suspicious.”
- People drive really, really, really fucking slow – not just the people looking at leaves, either. The ones with the Vermont plates were some of the worst offenders.
- I really cannot dance and I should not try to do so ever again.
- The signs that simply say “Moose” are warnings, not free word association games.
- It’s so white here that I’m the blackest person here. Fo shiz.
- It’s hard to be naked all the time when it’s 38 degrees out.
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