Making Patrons of Cape Cod’s Dining Scene Question, “Is He He Hired Entertainment or Is He Just Casually Out in That…”
If you say you’re from the South, people will assume you’re inherently charming, have a natural warmth about you, and you’re as gosh darn agreeable as sweet tea on a hot day. If you say you’re from California, you’ll automatically be bestowed with characteristics of being laid back, in tune with nature, and open-minded to all ways and walks of life.
But if you say you’re from Massachusetts, so help you God, and you will immediately have a large iced extra extra from Dunks thrust in your face to begin your inevitable transformation into a Mark Wahlberg caricature whose grizzly exterior is a silent reminder of the x-number New England winters you’ve survived, years you’ve been without Tom Brady, and deep rage and aggression you need to perpetually harness to have a fighting chance of successfully navigating the state by car. If you are a graduate of Boston College, you are expected to disclose this within the first minute of meeting someone, even if the conversation doesn’t warrant it. If you were in the Harry Potter universe, your Patronus would be an iced-coffee drinking smoker waiting outside of the Boston Garden before the Bruins game in the dead of January. However, the palpable energy seeping out of every individual proud enough to say their hometown contains no less than 17 Dunkin’ Donuts is the distinct “we started the American Revolution” aura, the root of the “you think you’re better than me?” statewide achilles heel. To a passerby, the modern day Boston local may appear to be a simple man in grey sweats, a weathered Carhartt jacket, and a B’s hat. But just below the surface you’ll find a reincarnated Patriot with an ego as big as John Hancock’s name on the Declaration of Independence, who stands by that they’re a mere (questionably valid) six degrees of separation from Paul Revere.
Textbook example: Richard J. Lawton of East Falmouth, Massachusetts, see above.