West Virginia Adventures.

I've been fortunate enough to find a temporary job in West Virginia.

Before I devolve into a semi-serious tone, let me emphasize that I recognize that West Virginia, being an inanimate political/geographic division, does not in anyway impart a particular mode of behavior on its people, so please recognize that I have no intention of dissuading anyone from visiting this land they call "almost heaven," which inspired that Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver (even if he was possibly high as a kite when he wrote the lyrics).

With that disclaimer out of the way, let's learn a little about West Virginia.

West Virginia, with 24,230 square miles of of surface area, is larger than roughly 110 countries in the world, and similar in size as Latvia (somewhere in Europe, I think it is next to Egypt).

West Virginia, with an estimated population of 1.8 million people, has approximately one-twelfth of the population of Taiwan.

West Virginia also has a GDP of approximately $55 billion USD, which is roughly 7.8% of Taiwan's GDP.

Now... I will be the first to admit that before I began commuting to work in Wheeling, West Virginia, I had reservations about the hospitality of the West Virginian people.

I had heard jokes about how the toothbrush was invented in West Virginia (because anywhere else it would be called a teethbrush), and read about how the Ohio River was basically the natural border of the Mason-Dixon line (and Wheeling was south of the river).

Basically, I was prepared for the meeting the simultaneously most comical, offensive, and possibly the most blatantly bigoted North Americans someone can encounter without turning in to Rush Limbaugh or Lou Dobbs.

Unfairly wary of West Virginians, I initially avoided contact with locals outside of the office while I worked there. But eventually my cat like curiosity overcame my own bigotry, and I decided that I would attempt to make contact with West Virginians. After all, it is part of my American assimilation to make contact with all Americans, particularly ones that remained loyal to the union during the American Civil War (author's note: I have no kind words for rebels! Unless they're from New England and were fighting against tyranny from London, because then they're PATRIOTS!).

Feeling bold and empowered by my acquired American optimism, I would smile and say hello to the custodians and staff, and remembered to say "how are you?" and reply "good" when asked (even if I didn't really have the time to listen to how someone was doing or if I was not feeling good). Armed with these maxims, I believed I could safely introduce myself to West Virginians without drama and incident.

Initially, the custodian and some members of the staff appeared to be taken aback at my presence. I hypothesized that it may be because of my dashing good looks (but it also could been my wonderfully All-American appearance). But! After several days of gradually increasing the level of exposure the locals had to endure, people no longer double-taked, and the local employees became accustomed to my presence.

Confident that I had desensitized the locals, and eager to do more work, I decided to stick around until the office was closed at 8:30pm, before getting in the car and driving back to Pittsburgh.

Not quite sure whether the G-20 had turned Pittsburgh into a war zone, I decided to stock up on petrol by refueling the awesome car before driving my merry way back to Pittsburgh.

That was when I was exposed to the full friendliness and multiculturalism of West Virginia. There I was, in my business causal attire, with my fancy Pennsylvanian license plate, pumping some petrol into the fuel tank, when a white pickup pulls up along side.

The white pickup had two adults (whom I presumed to be Mom and Dad?) and three kids (theirs?). Mom and Dad got out and went inside (to pay for gas? use the bathroom? perhaps to buy some caviar and fish tacos?).

The pump clicked off (after only 9 gallons), and I was getting back to the driver's side to drive home when I heard a voice utter "konichiwa". Being somewhat exhausted from the long day, I was taken aback, as I hadn't expected to have to deal with Japanese people in West Virginia. Was it the second Pearl Harbor? Some sort of secret Japanese invasion of epic Red Dawn proportions?

Uncertain of whether I was dealing with a ghostly creepy Japanese little girl (ala The Ring), or some modern airborne Isoroku Yamamoto, I pretended as if I did not hear "konichiwa".

"konichiwa!" The "thing" shouted again, this time with more effort.

I dared a sideways glance. OH THE HORROR! It was the West Virginian family! THEY SPOKE JAPANESE!!

"konichiwa!"

"konichiwa!"

Not wanting to be mistaken as a ghost or some sort of Japanese spy, I ignored what appeared to be an obvious Japanese plot to assimilate AMERICANS!

But the voices did not stop.

"KONICHIWA!"

"KONICHIWA!"

"KONICHIWA!" "KONICHIWA!" "KONICHIWA!"

The voices became louder, more irritating, and somehow... mocking? It is as if these Japanese disguised as West Virginians were rubbing their Japanese superiority in my face. HOW DARE THEY?! Is it not enough that they have Honda and Toyota? Now they must bring Japanese to Wheeling, West Virginia?!

OUTRAGEOUS!

In my silent moral outrage at the Japanization of America, I thought of and was tempted to say "I'm sorry? What are you saying? This is AMERRRRICA!" in my best Alabaman accent.

But just fractions of a second before I uttered my AMERICAN comeback, I realized... that these West Virginian Japanese spies may be armed with katanas and shooting stars. DAMMIT! I hadn't gone to Cabela's to pick up my G-20 spec personal defense weapon. 5 Japanese disguised as West Virginians vs. 1 unarmed assimilated American. Damn.

I bit my lip, and drove away from the station.

Japanese 1 - American 0. I am sorry America, I failed to defend this blessed West Virginian country from foreign evil doers.