Hoosier Mama?

For reasons too boring to enumerate -- I find myself spending quite a lot of time in Indiana these days. Woo Hoo - the Hoosier State! I like to try to rally myself into a frenzy of self-induced euphoria when contemplating my next trip.
I decided to Wikepedia "Hoosier," since I probably shouldn't be bandying the word around, without the foggiest sense of its meaning. I learned that little lesson, the awkward way, in more than one foreign country.
The Wikepedia experts are a little vague on the origin of the Hoosier term. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hoosier -- They speculate it originated as either a slurred greeting, an expletive used to get someone to 'dummy-up', or some reference to white trash. Any term that could serve those three purposes simultaneously automatically becomes my new favorite expression! It's the language trifecta!

Speaking of racing, that seems to be the principal source of excitement in Indianapolis. The Indy 500 isn't a mere day-long spectacle to Hoosiers. Nah, there's about two weeks of thrilling events, including "Carb-Day," which I learned (again, the awkward way) has nothing to do with thousands of local Atkins Dieters ransacking the Macaroni Grille.

Since I'm spending about one week of every four there for the foreseeable future, I am trying my best to go native. Its a little more challenging to blend in than I originally anticipated. They are only a two hour plane ride away, but Indiana is proving to be a 'whole new world' for this gal from Boston. Here's some of the interesting culture-shock experiences I've had thus far:

1: "Dog is my co-pilot" -- The last time I checked, Indiana was not in the Bible-belt. Maybe it's just the folks I'm rolling with, but God seems to come up an awful lot, in places you wouldn't ordinarily expect. Like budget discussions. Recently, a colleague said "well, if it please Jesus" when discussing an equipment investment. At first, I just thought there was a Hispanic guy running Purchasing. Nothing doing. I haven't seen anyone near the office who looks vaguely beige, never mind ethnic. Once I heard Leviticus quoted and a marketing meeting ended with "Amen," I realized I was in the land of Ned Flanders. Hi-de-li-ho Neighbors! I should be OK as long as I keep it to a 2 drink maximum at work events and avoid all pointed questions about whether or not I've found my 'personal savior'. I have a feeling "Jose Cuervo" would not be an acceptable answer to that question -- though they share the initials "JC", and I might make the bonus round with that!

2: Drivin' (like) Miss Daisy -- For a city with a love of auto racing, they sure ain't speedy on their freeways. Almost no-one drives in the left-hand lane, or passes one another -- which is mind boggling for this Boston driver. Almost as mind-boggling as the speeding ticket I received for doing .... 72mph on the Freeway. 72! I almost laughed out loud -- until I saw it was $150 fine for going even 1 mile over the speed limit. 72 ... I almost wanted to ask the (very nice) police officer if he could make the "7" a "9" so I could save face at home -- where we drive 72 ... in the driveway! I nearly invoked the Lord's name myself -- and not in the good way.

3: Its a small world (on my plate) -- I'm no gastronome, but I do love me some fine dining -- especially when I'm out of down on the corporate dime. When I Googled "Indianapolis Dining," the list of options began with Cracker Barrel and ended with Olive Garden. Sigh. I asked my resident friends -- Don't you guys have any indigenous delicacies, like lobster or BBQ or deep-dish pizza? Nope. I thought I'd be working my way through the mall food court, beginning and ending with Orange Julius, when suddenly I discovered a hidden gem on the Interweb -- "Blu Martini"! You know, when they leave the "e" off of blue, you're in for a treat vs. lowering your expectatins for the "kozy koffee kottage". There are intentional misspellings and then there are C words which begin with K. Kool.
My enthusiasm flagged a bit when I saw Blu Martini in person. The web photos didn't do justice. I could not tell online that it was at the end of a strip mall, next to an ADAP auto parts store. The interior had a feeling of old roller rink / a Midwestern community theater production of 'Sex In The City' --- mmm, not so much.
Oh well, at the Olive Garden, they "treat you like family" -- Here's hoping they treat me like someone else's.

On an up note, my find of the week was that you can bring cocktails into the movie theater in Indy. Schwing! After my blu, blu dinner, I went to see Sex In The (real) City at the local art cinema. The in-theater cocktails added a real dimension to the experience. Even though it was a Wednesday night -- the local gals really got festive. Everywhere around me glasses clinked and the women repeatedly yelled out to the screen (and to each other). It was a little like Rocky Horror with 20% less mascara. Pretty hilarious. I wonder what they yelled during Brokeback Mountain.

In reading this post, I realize I come off sounding like a snotty Easterner. Its not that I consider myself superior (Ok, a little). Mostly, I just feel like Sarah Jessica Parker whenever I visit -- not as Carrie Bradshaw -- but as Patty Greene in 'Square Pegs', always 1/2 a beat or 27mph off.

I guess I'll just have to ask myself "What would SJP do?"