Several months back, I was sitting in a bar in Manhattan’s Lower East Side engaging in a cocktail and conversation with several other patrons. After a bit of chatter, one of the gentlemen asked, “Where do you live?” Sensing he picked up on my slight Southern drawl, I proudly proclaimed Nashville, TN. To my chagrin, the lady at the end of the bar bitterly mumbled, “Ugh, who do you think you are, some sort of Southern gentleman?”
When I responded with a humble “Yes,” I followed up by asking why such a moniker carried a negative connotation. She replied, “It’s just so stuffy.” Instead of arguing, I did what most of us do in bars and pubs — I challenged her to a bet.