Fellow Traveler visited the local UPS store yesterday to mail our homemade salsa and our household stash of Dona Maria mole' to Semi-Daughter-in-Law in Brooklyn for our Thanksgiving Day feast.
The store owner picked up a jar of mole' and examined it critically. "What's this 'mole' stuff?" she asked, with some disapproval. "Why would you want to eat that? Is it, like, gravy for rats? Because when I think 'mole' I think rats and mice."
FT attempted humor: "Well, we are sending it to New York -- lots of rats there."
UPS Woman didn't get it.
So FT patiently explained what mole' was.
"Well, why would you be sending that?"
FT patiently explained our Thanksgiving dinner plans.
"Why don't you just have turkey for Thanksgiving, like Sarah Palin? Wasn't that a cute video of her pardoning the turkey? You know, people just don't give Sarah a chance." (Actual quote.)
FT, after squelching the urge to vomit all over the counter, patiently explained that, first of all, everyone in our extended family likes Mexican food, and that, secondly, when feeding a bunch of people in a borrowed galley kitchen without several days' preparation, Mexican food is a lot easier to cook and assemble.
"Well, we had a Mexican at our house once, and he ate American food." (Actual quote.)
The woman went on to express her general distaste for Mexican food. "It's all the same. That's why that Mexican restaurant down the street went out of business. No one here likes Mexican food."
FT patiently explained that Mexican cuisine is actually very regionally diverse; and that the restaurant down the street closed, not because the food was Mexican but because the food was bad, and overpriced.
Did I mention that FT was here simply to mail a package?
UPS Woman redirected her attention to our homemade salsa. "What's that?"
"It's homemade salsa."
"Well, it doesn't look like [local supermarket chain's] salsa." (Actual quote.)
This went on for several more minutes, before FT's inquisitor finally finished packaging and processing our package.
This is the kind of interrogation I go through every day that I bring my own lunch to work ("Oooh...what's that?" "Um -- curry." "Eeeeuw...I don't think I'd like that...") It's why we need to get out of Outer Podunk -- this week definitely, but eventually forever. It's not just the ignorance, but the wilful, arrogant embrace of ignorant, small-minded hickdom around here, that drives us both fruitbat crazy.