I find that some things that appear in my daily life are true and accurate representations of this area as a whole, in an overgeneralized and overstereotyped version of my experience here. For instance, the bumpersticker I witnessed while driving back to Williamsburg from the Norfolk airport this morning, which doubled for me as the title of this post. No, I did not leave out any punctuation or articles.
Williamsburg is an interesting place, for certain. No more do I marvel at what people wear - not since seeing people in standard 18th century dress has become commonplace in the grocery store or at the bar. Er, uh, the deli. I have grown accustomed to stopping in the middle of the road - not necessarily at a crosswalk - to allow a gaggle of tourists to walk in front of my car like a mess of geese. People here refer to foothills as "large mountains." People here forget to use verbs. There is a standard decorum to uphold, which includes not showing too much skin in the summer by wearing a spaghetti-strapped tank top. Names and money are of particular importance here. As are bricks. There are some days I can convince myself that I'm living in a literal war zone because I can hear cannons bursting from the war reinactments nearby. And you never go too long without hearing a fife and drum corps walking down the street.
Yes, this is where I live.
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