Culture Shock (7.5 on the Richter)
Aug. 12th, 2003 01:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
judecorpWe returned from San Francisco. She slept on and off while I puttered around the house. And then we decided to go to the Ohio State Fair.
Crap on a cracker, talk about a culture shock.
It occured to me only /after/ the man serving us our meat-on-a-stick called me 'sir' twice that not once, not one single solitary time, did anyone in SF call either Jennifer or myself 'sir' or any such thing. It was always 'you ladies' this and 'you ladies' that. Wow. What a difference. I wore the very same clothes!
Sometimes I really like passing. But during the entire time in California, I wanted to be a girl. I guess part of it is that my lack of hair makes me feel girlier than my suave previous haircut, but it might be more than that. I don't know. Regardless, I wasn't passing there, and I didn't mind at all. But I didn't realize it until tonight, when I wasn't even the slightest bit amused or giddy about being mistaken for a boy.
We've been home less than 24 hours, and already I'm crying inside to go back. It's not even that we didn't get stared at there. It's that the only people staring were the tourists, and well, they assumed we were locals, and tried to hide their interloper stares. Clandestine rudeness - what a concept! And I'm already missing decent public transportation, lack of humidity, the smell of the ocean, busydirtycityness, and personal speed. Le sigh.
Jennifer and I had a couple of good, long talks about what we want as individuals, and where we'd like to live next. It's ironic that one of the 'goals' of the trip was for her to entice me into falling in love with San Francisco so we would move there, but in actuality, I think I convinced her that Boston might be a better choice for us. I love everything about California except the obscene distance from my family. Unfortunately that's a really /big/ con, especially when I already lament being too far in Columbus.
So watch out, Bostonians - we might be neighbors. I guess we'll have to visit first and asses the Stare Factor and the Gender Determination Quotient.
Crap on a cracker, talk about a culture shock.
It occured to me only /after/ the man serving us our meat-on-a-stick called me 'sir' twice that not once, not one single solitary time, did anyone in SF call either Jennifer or myself 'sir' or any such thing. It was always 'you ladies' this and 'you ladies' that. Wow. What a difference. I wore the very same clothes!
Sometimes I really like passing. But during the entire time in California, I wanted to be a girl. I guess part of it is that my lack of hair makes me feel girlier than my suave previous haircut, but it might be more than that. I don't know. Regardless, I wasn't passing there, and I didn't mind at all. But I didn't realize it until tonight, when I wasn't even the slightest bit amused or giddy about being mistaken for a boy.
We've been home less than 24 hours, and already I'm crying inside to go back. It's not even that we didn't get stared at there. It's that the only people staring were the tourists, and well, they assumed we were locals, and tried to hide their interloper stares. Clandestine rudeness - what a concept! And I'm already missing decent public transportation, lack of humidity, the smell of the ocean, busydirtycityness, and personal speed. Le sigh.
Jennifer and I had a couple of good, long talks about what we want as individuals, and where we'd like to live next. It's ironic that one of the 'goals' of the trip was for her to entice me into falling in love with San Francisco so we would move there, but in actuality, I think I convinced her that Boston might be a better choice for us. I love everything about California except the obscene distance from my family. Unfortunately that's a really /big/ con, especially when I already lament being too far in Columbus.
So watch out, Bostonians - we might be neighbors. I guess we'll have to visit first and asses the Stare Factor and the Gender Determination Quotient.
