A failure to communicate
Kim and I took the Harley out for a short ride to Centerville. On our way back, we passed by the Frosty King in Sanger, which either offers a decent bargain on DRINKS, or one hell of a markup.
Either way, we’ll consider this a sign fail.
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So how many Centervilles are there in the US? It’s a bit like being called James or Ben. Noone calls you just by your first name. You either have a nickname or everyone say Ben…/James…
“So Ben Smith, where you from?”
“I’m from London.”
“Wow! That’s cool.”
“And where are you from Hayden?”
“Centerville.”
“Centerville, Ohio?”
“No…”
“Centerville, Virginia?”
“No…”
“Centerville, California?”
“NO! Centerville, Pennsylvania!”
“Oh. Right. Nice.”
Ben, I didn’t think of that – I’m not sure how many Centervilles there are. Around here, there’s just the one, though it’s too small to show on a map!