A smart woman

As I mentioned previously, we went to a Tennessee Smokies minor league baseball game while visiting my mother. The park has a very good way of managing alcohol sales. Instead of each vendor having to check IDs, a booth is set up at the entrance where IDs are checked and you receive a hand stamp. All you have to do is then show your hand stamp to the vendor from whom you are purchasing beer.

I stopped to get my hand stamp from the Beer Approval Person (BAP). The BAP, a gentleman who appeared to be in his late 60s, peered at my drivers license and asked "You're from Georgia?"

Me: No, sir. I am not from Georgia, I simply LIVE in Georgia.

BAP (nodding): So, are you from this area originally?

Me: No, sir, I am originally from Cleveland, Ohio but I really consider North Carolina to be my home.

BAP (smiling): Whereabouts in North Carolina?

Me: Raleigh.

BAP: I'm from Wilson. Do you know where Wilson is?

Me: Yes, sir, Wilson is Down East. (pause) Where they make the world's best barbecue.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Instant approval!

BAP (smiling even more now): You are a very smart woman.

Me: I am a woman who likes Eastern North Carolina barbecue!

He stamped my hand, still smiling, and told me to enjoy the game. Later, when James went to get his hand stamped, the BAP was about to harass him a bit about his Georgia drivers license when he spotted me standing nearby.

BAP: Are you with her?

James: Yes.

BAP: Then you're okay. Enjoy the game!

Ah, the language of barbecue!