I’ve been labeled!  And we all know that labeling people isn’t nice.  So why do people do it?  If one listens to TV commercials, it’s to separate the zombies from the rest of the living beings.  If one attended the wedding I attended last week, it’s about New Yorkers and Rednecks.

My beloved spouse and I recently traveled with friends to an event out of state…that event being a destination wedding. (Lord, help us)  We, along with a small group of friends, stood for the groom’s family.   We had a wonderful time, in general.  Only one thing marred it.  Being labeled and the trappings of such labeling.

The ‘other’ side of this equation, a.k.a the bride’s side, was mostly from New York (not the city).  Prior to meeting any of this ‘other’ group, I had no preconceived notion, or predetermined issue with how they might think or act based on anything and certainly not on where they might reside.  They were just people going to a wedding, just like us.  They weren’t lucky enough to be from Texas, live in Texas or even get to visit Texas, but that was entirely their problem.  It’s a wedding, so let’s all be happy, right?

It was readily apparent from minute one (that’s a New York Minute) that the New Yorkers, before meeting us or speaking to us, thought that we were a bunch of hillbilly rednecks that did not warrant even the slightest instant of civil politeness.  They were flat out rude.  Repeatedly.

I do not for a second want to imply there is a thing wrong with being a Redneck.  Some of my best friends are Rednecks.  Hard working, deeply honest, loving Rednecks.  And not one of them would hastily assume that just because one might be from New York, one might be a rude jerk.  It could be proven fast enough, but they’d never assume it.

But here we were, with the label of Redneck pasted on us, sneered our direction, and used in a clearly derogatory manner, merely because we were different from them. Yes, some in our group wore cowboy boots as appropriate footwear (dress boots, polished and all), but not a one of us rode a horse anywhere (or even own one for that matter) and we all made sure we’d combed the hay from our hair and the dirt from under our nails before slicking and gussying ourselves all up for the big hoedown. Shucks and golly gee MeMa, we didn’t even use the cement pond to bathe.

After this experience, I wonder, are all New Yorkers over tanned, uncouth, snotty jerks that drink like fish and smell like cigarettes?  And is this every day behavior or saved for special occasions, say like weddings? I will never have the answer to my questions, as my one experience with them has now come and gone.  But I will say that I now understand why people from the south, and not just Texas, talk about Yankees being rude.  This group did nothing to dis-spell the stereo type. Quite the opposite, they embodied the stereo type.  It may amuse them to know that the metro area Deep in the Heart of Texas, where our contingent resides, is 6 times bigger than where they reside, is home to several world renowned music venues and museums, and has much worse traffic.

So label me if you must, because I’d rather be a Redneck, if that group will have me, than a rude New Yorker.