When I least expect it, my southern accent leaps forth with energetic twangs, drawls, and foiled pronunciations. The conversations and speech patterns I hear in Kentucky keep me rooted in my past; those in San Francisco amuse and delight me in new ways. On the Fulton/Ocean Beach bus, the entire front section raised eyebrows at this exchange between a male bus driver and a female passenger--apparently an old friend.
Driver: Did you know I'm gettin' married?!
Friend: No! Who to?
Friend: Policeman? A San Francisco Policeman??!
Driver: NO, FeLEEsha!
Friend: Felicia WHO?
Driver: I don't know. She short.