Reminds me of when I watched an episode of St. Elsewhere (set in Boston) when one of the doctors is relating how he went on a bender and drove around aimlessly until he woke up in Worcester.
Of course, back in college, I read a "literary" short story about two people who meet in a bus station, both with longish layovers. You know the type -- nothing at all happens in the story... But the thing that stuck in my mind was one woman suggests to the other that they go and get milkshakes. "Milkshakes?" the other woman says? The fist woman actually describes a milkshake -- yes ladies and gentlemen, written by an American and for an American audience, but we needed to get over the minimum word limit. The second woman responds, "Oh. In Binghamton, we call them frappes."
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At least as much fun as when Captain Archer responded to "where the Hell did you come from?" with, "Upstate New York."
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"Worcester?!" his colleagues exclaimed in horror.
I was living in Worcester at the time....
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Of course, back in college, I read a "literary" short story about two people who meet in a bus station, both with longish layovers. You know the type -- nothing at all happens in the story...
But the thing that stuck in my mind was one woman suggests to the other that they go and get milkshakes.
"Milkshakes?" the other woman says?
The fist woman actually describes a milkshake -- yes ladies and gentlemen, written by an American and for an American audience, but we needed to get over the minimum word limit.
The second woman responds, "Oh. In Binghamton, we call them frappes."
To which I said (aloud) "No, we don't."