Ask a Boston University student to find my home state of Ohio on a map, and I’m not completely sure they could do it. Five bucks says they point to Idaho or Iowa somewhere in the middle, at least.
But who can blame them? Since half the school’s population represents the East Coast, California and Texas, some of the nation’s biggest spheres of pop culture and media marketing, why bother to learn the remaining 44 or so states?
Maybe I’m exaggerating just a bit. You know Ohio. It’s that expansive patchwork quilt of farm fields you stare at during your cross-country flight while dissecting the complimentary bag of airline snack mix or leafing through a SkyMall catalog.
Sports fans probably noticed Ohio State’s undefeated football season last year and if not that, surely the embarrassing footage of Buckeye loyalists burning couches and overturned cars that graced national news. Even Cleveland, the state capital, serves as the setting for The Drew Carey Show.
This is where you’re supposed to stop and scratch your head in confusion. “Cleveland? I thought Columbus was the capital,” you wonder. But no, in pure ignorance, you read on without argument because you didn’t know otherwise. Shame.
It’s not that many people can’t even locate my home that bothers me most, it’s the gross misconceptions they have about it. I remember meeting a girl at orientation and in the midst of our small talk, she asked where I hailed from.
“Wow, that’s soooo far away,” she exclaimed when I told her.
Her hometown? Seattle.
But just as many of us think of Seattle dwellers as earthy, Starbucks-drinking liberals who listen to early-90s alternative rock, I too am often typecast.
Yes, my street is paved. No, my father does not wear a John Deere hat. And I’ve only milked a cow once.
I usually take these stereotypes with a grain of salt in conversation, especially among those my own age. When my old roommate, a New Jersey native, would make a snide remark about me chewing wheat or churning butter, I was like, “Dude, you’re from ‘The Armpit of America.’ I feel sorry for you!”
But it was last semester on the “T,” when I ran into an editor from my old internship, that I got a real taste of regional bias. A native New Yorker and former senior editor at Maxim, he asked me where I would be spending the Thanksgiving holiday.
“I’m going home to Ohio,” I said.
“Oh,” he replied, with a sympathetic tone I thought was only reserved for when a friend’s grandparent dies. “So sorry to hear about your loss.”
It doesn’t help that Dublin, my hometown and a suburb of Columbus, has been featured in a slew of recent commercials for Wendy’s. Yes, the fast food chain famous for the Biggie Frosty is my city’s biggest claim to fame.
One of the ads shows random Dublinites browsing a quaint flea market in a folksy town square. This is pretty odd, seeing as we don’t even have a flea market and the commercial was filmed in Florida with, yes, hired actors. Another spot shows three racially diverse, yet completely non-controversial couples bickering over their preferences for the Wendy’s hamburger and chicken sandwich in an unabashedly wholesome Midwestern, “aw-shucks” manner.
Yep, that’s what we do in Ohio. We go antiquing and politely argue about the super value menu. And while it’s hardly relevant that a giant billboard with a smiling picture of the late Dave Thomas greets visitors at the Columbus airport, I have to admit I almost cried when I saw the construction of a Wendy’s on Massachusetts Avenue late last year.
Furthermore, I am not embarrassed to say that I live within walking distance of a cornfield. Nor do I have qualms about the daily newspaper headlines, which are often about high school sports or crop prices. However, most families in the Columbus suburbs make a comfortable living, and any type of automobile, cuisine or fashion is easily available. Maybe not 24 hours a day like in New York, but have you ever tried to get a calzone or a pair of slacks at 3 a.m. in Boston? Didn’t think so.
If you’ve ever shopped at an Abercrombie ‘ Fitch, Express or The Limited, the designs originated from the companies’ Central Ohio corporate offices. But should the high priced wears from the Armani and Burberry retailers of Newbury Street be the desired find, those too can be bought here. Trust me, the straw hats and OshKosh B’Goshes were phased out years ago.
We’re home to an NHL franchise, the Columbus Blue Jackets — even though they suck and the official mascot is a giant green bumblebee. Ohio State University is the nation’s second largest public university and has top-ranked programs in engineering, political science, medicine and the arts even though your intro to economics class will have 3,425 students and the team mascot is a charismatic dancing nut. Columbus is a city of sweet, sweet contradiction.
Even more cool, a recent survey by Black Entertainment Television ranked Columbus the best city in the country for black families.
“We got it going on, and I’m proud to say it,” said Mayor Michael Coleman in a recent BET interview. “When people come to Columbus, they love it and often come back and stay because they love it so much.”
The affection shows. Results of the 2000 Census report the population of Columbus to be 711,470, while Boston’s is 589,141. Add low crime, highways that can get you across town in 10 minutes, the best independent radio station in the country and Wendy’s everywhere. What more could you possibly want?
I may be a Bostonian nine months of the year, but I’ll always be true to my roots, even if it means taking a social beating from elitists who couldn’t tell the difference between Ohio and Kentucky. But don’t get me started on that state they’re just a bunch of hicks.
Kevin Joy, a junior in the College of Communication, is the In Business editor of The Daily Free Press.
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