This weekend I went to Atlanta to visit my wonderful boyfriend. After our lunch on Saturday, his car would not start when we tried to leave the restaurant. After a few phone calls and a game of bananagrams to pass the time, a tow truck came to take his car to get it fixed.
While I was standing in the cold, frozen Atlanta twilight and my boyfriend was guiding his car along as the very skilled tow truck man cranked it to be hauled away, a woman from inside the restaurant poked her head out of the door and yelled,”Hey! We need to leave; you’re blocking us in!” to the driver of the tow truck.
I was shocked at the gall of this feisty, blonde woman. My boyfriend’s car was being towed because it wouldn’t start; it’s not like we were just entertaining ourselves with a large towing truck in the Felini’s parking lot.
I wanted to say, “Yeah? Well we need to leave, too,” and an assortment of other things, but I let my facial expression do the talking. I am thankful for the poise and patience of my boyfriend and the tow truck driver.
When the truck moved so the rude woman could leave (which was a span of about five minutes), I noticed her car tag said New York, and I thought to myself, “Ah. Figures.”
Why did I think that? I realize everyone from the North is not rude — I have dear friends from the North who are some of the kindest people I have ever known, but that stereotype has been burned over and over again in my head. It is well reiterated when instances such as the tow truck experience happen.
I was born and raised in Tennessee. My parents taught me to have manners, to say, “please,” “thank you” and “yes ma’am/sir,” to think before I speak, to treat authority with respect and to always be as kind as people will let you. I try my best to live up to the example they taught me.
Most of my friends were raised in this same manner, and upon going to school in Mississippi, I see a lot of this similar upbringing reflected. While I was in Jacksonville for the Gator Bowl, I saw a woman wearing maroon accidently bump into a Michigan fan, pat her shoulder and say, “I’m sorry, sweetheart!” 


I know that everyone in the South is not Miss Congeniality. I know some southern people who are far ruder than any northern people I’ve met.
 But as far as stereotypes go, I’m grateful for the “people from the South have manners” one — in fact, I hope I live up to it.
I once dated someone whose parents were from the North. Even though he had lived in the South for all of his life, he was not a convincing Southern gentleman.
He called my parents by their first names and then continued to refer to my dad as Morris in conversation.
Back to the way I was raised — I think it is very disrespectful to assume a first-name basis with your girlfriend or boyfriend’s parents. It irked me to say the least.
I say all of this to say having manners and being kind can make the world of difference. If that lady in Atlanta had not said anything and waited five minutes for the tow truck driver to do his job, my stress level wouldn’t have increased so highly that afternoon.
Being from the North or the South really does not have anything to do with being a nice person, although one is more associated with the other.
Having good manners can only help oneself in life. To quote a saying my mother uses frequently, “you catch more flies with honey than vinegar.”
I will never understand the logic behind being rude for the sake of being rude. I especially do not understand how someone can be rude and not realize it.
To any Northerner who may have been offended by this, I apologize; to the Southern readers, y’all keep being sweet.
Mary Chase Breedlove is a sophomore majoring in communication. She can be contacted at [email protected].