East vs. West

Um...I think those arrows might be backwards

I am an American Coastal Hybrid.  I was born in New York, grew up in Massachusetts, spent two years in the Florida Keys, then ten in California, and currently live in Oregon.  This means that, as an American, I am all mixed up.  For example, by the time I got to California via Massachusetts and Florida, I found myself making comments like, "Y'all are wicked stoked," which led to many raised eyebrows and episodes of snickering at my expense.


Over the past several years of life as a coastal nomad, I have noticed many differences between the attitudes and actions of East and West Coasters.  The first time such disparities came to my attention was soon after moving to Santa Cruz, California, when I crashed into a crippling depression and took myself to a book store to sulk, pout, and pretend to look at books.

Wah.  Life is dumb.

While I was sprawled across an aisle with books spread out all around me, I heard a voice behind me say, "Excuse me?"  I then noticed the huge blockade I had created and began moving books so the person could get by.  Then the voice said, "No, I just wanted to see if you're okay.  There seems to be an overwhelming sadness about you."


Okay, so that would never, NEVER happen in, say, New England.  If I'd been in a book store in Massachusetts, had created that giant mess and another patron had wanted to pass, it would've played out more like this:


Person:  Hey!  What the hell?  I'm trying to get by here!
Me:  (tearfully) I'm sorry.
Person:  Yeah, you are.

YOU!  YEAH, YOU!  GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!

When I told one of my East Coast friends about my experience with the kindly stranger in the bookstore, his read on the situation was:  "That guy was insane.  Or he was hitting on you."


However, while East Coasters might be excessively assertive, West Coasters lean more towards passivity (or, if they're cranky, passive-aggressiveness).  I can't tell you how many times I've almost been plowed over by someone on a bike because that person wasn't willing to call out, "On your left!" or ring a little bell or give me some way of knowing he/she was coming up behind me at warp speed.  This happened one day while I was hiking with a friend from New Jersey.  A guy zinged by on his bike and scared the shit out of both of us.  I asked my friend for her opinion on why he didn't warn us of his approach, and she replied, "Because he's in Santa Cruz.  He's afraid to raise his voice."

I won't make a sound.  I'll just mow you down all quiet like.

Speaking of New Jersey, here's a joke that one of my coworkers, who is also from NJ, told me recently:


Q:  What is the first question on the New Jersey personality test?
A:  "What are you, a douchebag?"


Ha!  But I digress...


Something I have learned during my years of experiencing and attempting to understand West Coast functioning is the existence of a phenomenon known as The California No.  The California No looks like this:


Me:  Do you want to go hiking tomorrow?  It'll be about ten miles.
California Friend:  Uh...yeeeeaaaah.  Yeeeaaah, that sounds good.


When Californians draw out their "yeahs" like that instead of just saying "yes" or "okay," that means "no."  On the East Coast, the conversation would be more like this:


Me:  Do you want to go hiking tomorrow?  It'll be about ten miles.
East Coast Friend:  Fuck no.

Maybe people who live in the center of the U.S. are more balanced.

I discovered another version of The California No whenever I was in the process of moving (which I did seven times while I lived in Cali), and a neighbor stopped by.  The neighbor would wander into my house, see that I was packing boxes and say, "Oh, you're moving?  Let me know if you need any help!" while he backed out the door as quickly as possible.  Make no mistake - these California neighbors never had any intention of helping me move.  They were just trying to behave in a socially acceptable manner without having to make any sort of true personal commitment.


Despite the years I have had to practice adapting to West Coast temperaments and behaviors, I have discovered that Portlanders have a particularly passive behavior that really drives me batshit crazy.  You see, Portlanders?  They have this habit?  Of ending statements as if they're questions?  So everything they say sounds like they're asking for permission?  It is So.  Fucking.  Irritating.  When a Portlander talks to me like that, the East Coaster in me wants to scream, "Are you asking me or telling me?!  If it's a statement then end it with a period!  What the fuck is wrong with you?!"  


Portlanders also insist on obsessively utilizing proper grammar.  Over the past two years, I've had this interaction with approximately 150 different check-out clerks:


Clerk:  How are you doing today?
Me:  Pretty good, thanks.  And you?
Clerk:  I'm doing very well, thank you.


Of course you are.

In addition, Portlanders continue to engage in their favorite recreational activity of apologizing excessively.  My neighbor, who is doing some home renovations, recently apologized for hammering at 1 p.m. on a Saturday.  Dude, seriously?  There's really nothing to apologize for?  So maybe next time?  You could think about not apologizing?  Because it's completely unnecessary?  Oh, no!  What the hell is happening to me?!


Another clear East vs. West Coast differential can be found at traffic lights.  On the extreme East Coast side, we have folks sitting at a red light in gridlock traffic in New York City, and out of the blue, some of them start leaning on their horns.  It's as if one person thought, "Huh.  It's going to take me an hour to drive two miles.  This situation is about as awful as it could possibly be...but how could I make it even worse?  I know!  I'll create a horrific blast of endless, ear-splitting noise!  Hooray!"  And then dozens of other people thought, "Wow, I didn't know this situation could be more awful, but it can!  I'm gonna join in!"


Then we have Oregon, where people seem to be allergic to their horns and will be so overly courteous when driving that they almost create accidents.  In Portland, it is not uncommon to find oneself sitting several cars back at a light, and the light turns green, and no one moves.  When I am in these situations, I need to exercise extreme restraint to keep myself from ramming the car in front of me.  Meanwhile, the kind Oregonians in the line of cars sit there placidly waiting for the first driver to recognize that (a) the light has turned green, and (b) green means go.  Meanwhile, I sit there boiling with rage, thinking only:  "MOVE YOUR FUCKING CAR YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!  GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!  I'LL KILL YOU!"  And that is why I am going to have a heart attack before I'm 40.

Yes, it's an opportunity...to move your goddamn car!

In conclusion, while I sometimes find myself missing the straightforward communication and blatant assertiveness of the East Coast, in general I have found that West Coasters tend to be a more gentle, forgiving breed of American.  


Except, of course, for Raider fans.

You can bet these guys don't utilize The California No.