After a month in New Wye, I have learned a few facts about the Local Ways and Customs. For example, I now know where all the print sundresses and pearl stud earrings in the country are being stockpiled. Every New Wynian lass between the ages of 15 and 50 is prancing around town, fake tan all orangely aglow, with her floral print sundress rustling around her knees and her earlobes slowly being stretched out by massive (fake?) pearls. New Wye is also, it turns out, the place where all the Topsiders of the 1980s came to die — they’re all here, still kicking, barely, strapped to the sockless feet of the local young men. And I bet you thought it was safe to forget those unfortunate shoes, didn’t you?
Also in no short supply here: the middle name. Good glaven; I know Every Fucking Body’s middle name, because they all go by either their first and middle names or the middle name exclusively. The ones with first and middle names are the ones that get me — they’re all Mary Jo and Hillary Fay and Taylor Louise and Justin Bobby. Because it needs to take people longer to say things around here, of course.
I have one more class to teach this afternoon, after which I will be able to tell you a little bit about what I’m sure will be the Extreme Awesomeness of the whippersnappers’ writing skills. Ahoy, it’s papers already! Someone hold me.