Don't Forget to Wave
Now that our vacation has reached the halfway point, I've made a couple of observations about the great state of Oklahoma.
One, there is an unwritten law that requires you to wave to drivers headed in the opposite direction on the back roads. I keep forgetting until it's too late - the benevolent, waving driver has already passed me, his hand held palm outward in the unrequited gesture. I was driving with my dad the other day so I appointed him as our official waver, since apparently I cannot handle the responsibility.
My mother informed me that there are degrees to the wave that are permissible. You can extend your whole arm and rotate your hand rapidly at the wrist, in an enthusiastic version of the greeting. Or, if you are feeling a bit peckish, you can get away with raising your index finger (no, not THAT finger) above your steering wheel.
The good news is that I'm in a rental car (with out of state plates), so whenever I forget to wave, the locals just think I'm a jerk from Nevada. I don't think anything terrible happens to non-wavers, except that I am probably accumulating bad karma at an alarming rate.
The other observation I have made is that the big style (for the younger girls, anyway) seems to involve skinny jeans and puffy boots. It was odd only from the perspective that it was around 70 degrees today.
Oh, I have to add that I got "howdy'ed" when we went out to eat today. And somehow, it felt downright genuine. People are plenty nice here, though they are friendly in my neck of the woods, too. When I bought groceries the other day, the young cashier (whose arms were the approximate diameter of a McDonald's drinking straw) brought our stuff out to the car and loaded it up for us. Apparently it is a requirement of some sort. I was all confused - do I tip? Not tip? I only had a twenty, so I decided to risk being deemed a jerk from Nevada than a crazy high-tipper from Nevada.
That's all the news for now. I'm headed to my sister's house for the night. You know, on the street with no name in the town with no name. Please send a posse if I don't come back.
One, there is an unwritten law that requires you to wave to drivers headed in the opposite direction on the back roads. I keep forgetting until it's too late - the benevolent, waving driver has already passed me, his hand held palm outward in the unrequited gesture. I was driving with my dad the other day so I appointed him as our official waver, since apparently I cannot handle the responsibility.
My mother informed me that there are degrees to the wave that are permissible. You can extend your whole arm and rotate your hand rapidly at the wrist, in an enthusiastic version of the greeting. Or, if you are feeling a bit peckish, you can get away with raising your index finger (no, not THAT finger) above your steering wheel.
The good news is that I'm in a rental car (with out of state plates), so whenever I forget to wave, the locals just think I'm a jerk from Nevada. I don't think anything terrible happens to non-wavers, except that I am probably accumulating bad karma at an alarming rate.
The other observation I have made is that the big style (for the younger girls, anyway) seems to involve skinny jeans and puffy boots. It was odd only from the perspective that it was around 70 degrees today.
Oh, I have to add that I got "howdy'ed" when we went out to eat today. And somehow, it felt downright genuine. People are plenty nice here, though they are friendly in my neck of the woods, too. When I bought groceries the other day, the young cashier (whose arms were the approximate diameter of a McDonald's drinking straw) brought our stuff out to the car and loaded it up for us. Apparently it is a requirement of some sort. I was all confused - do I tip? Not tip? I only had a twenty, so I decided to risk being deemed a jerk from Nevada than a crazy high-tipper from Nevada.
That's all the news for now. I'm headed to my sister's house for the night. You know, on the street with no name in the town with no name. Please send a posse if I don't come back.
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