I've never been galliphobic, but i'm not partial to crowds. I was born in Manhattan, when my family lived in the Bronx. I grew up in pastoral settings however, and am no lover of crowds. For those finding this dialogue too obscurantist, i offer the following:
Yer basic barnyard variety bird[/b][/color]
Having grown up among our more relaxed and affable country bretheren and cisterns, while yet preserving vague recollection of the Irish Bronx of the 1950's, i've always felt comfortable in town or in the sticks. Say to me: 'Ye ain't from around here, air ye?" an' i'll reply: "Nope, ah'm from back yonder, y'all got a problem with that?"
Say to me: "Fer chrissake, where are you
from?" an' i'll reply: "Da Bronx, yuh gotta problem wid dat?"
I was in a supermarket on Azela Drive between Wilmington and Wrightsville Beach (in NC) once, awaiting my seester-in-law while she shopped for the food for which i was to pay, that we all (younguns included) go to the beach. I picked up a few odd items, and got in line to check out, the "express" line (New Yorkers beware, this word is defined differently in parts significantly south of Sandy Hook). When my turn arrived, i stood there before the not unattractive young lady in her uniform smock, with the items in my hand, saying:
Hey now, how ya doin' taday . . .
Ah'm doin' alright, how you . . .
(setting down my humble purchases)
Fahn . . . we're goin' to tha beach ! ! !
(guy behind me rattles his shopping cart--revealing, charcoal, lighter, matches, hamburger and hotdogs, buns, mustard, ketchup, tater chips, soda pop . . . Say . . . you ain't from around here, air ye?)
Ah shorely wish i could . . . it is just such a nice day
Well, hell, darlin' . . . when do you get off?
(more cart rattling, huffing and puffing through the nostrils--pretty young lady scans a few items)
Four uhclock . . . you goin' to the beach, huh ?
Yeah, we are
(dramatic sighing behind me--young lady gives pointed stare from under lowered brow . . . to no effect . . . )
Oh . . . ah see . . . $11.87, hon . . . ah'd rather not break no fifty, sug . . . what you got that's smaller . . .
S'all right, here's a twinny . . . you see us at the beach, you say hey now, 'k . . .
I shorely will . . . you have a big time now . . .
An' our country kinfolk can be as pointed in their discussion of strangers as any New Yorker. The man makes his purchases, growling in a very noticeable Nort' Joisey accent, and then leaves in his huff, to go find his minivan, as the lovely little belle inquires loudly . . .
Now where you spose he's goin' in such a hurry?
Well, darlin', i'd say he's desirous of spendin' twinny thirty minits sittin' in the hot sun at that light here on Azela . . . you know, the one changes to green when they think of it?
Violent cart rattling, soft laughter from than one young gentlelady . . .
(Content warning: dialogue approximate . . . well, hell, that was twenty years ago, now, wasn't it?)