I hate it when that happens

When ever I travel in the southern US my accent usually precedes me and I have to explain what I am doing so far from home. “I know someone from Canada! Do you know ______.” I hate saying yes to that question. I hate supporting the idea that Canada is this one little village and we all know each other but it keeps happening. They’ll say someone at my church or someone I went to school with and I have to begrudging admit, yes I know the only Canadian you happen to know. Here’s the latest example.

Picture this, I am visiting a congregation of 2000 people, second service and an older gentlemen who introduced himself in the lobby invites me out for lunch. His wife has done the same and invited a young couple from town. So we all go out to lunch and there you go. None of them have any acquaintances in Canada. This looks promising. So this young couple across the table are hearing me tell the story of Tintern:

Me: “Yeah we have another minister who started a year ago. He graduated from Harding two years ago”
Random girl from church: “Where’s he from originally?”
Me: “Kingsport TN”
RG: “Dylan???”

Insert facepalm here.


2 thoughts on “I hate it when that happens

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