A few years ago a group of us stopped in Winnemucca one weekend after a long, summer week of being in the desert (playa, Pyramid Lake, Carson sink and other areas of the Great Basin) doing land art installations and learning the geology of the region. I was wearing dust covered Doc Martins, a Utilikilt my ball cap from the Yucca Mountain radioactive waste facility (http://www.ocrwm.doe.gov/ymp/index.shtml
) and had a tee shirt that was, um, crufty. To say the least.
I went into a truck stop to buy some beer and toothpaste - or something. I walked in with my rock hammers, GPS, knives and few other objects dangling off my tool belt. There was three of us in the place. Myself, the cashier and a crusy old truck driver over in the ailse checking out the Twinkie selection.
Just as I walked in the place the cashier takes one look at me with his eyes half bugging out of his head and says "Boy, where the hell
are you from?
The old trucker who by now takes one very nonchalant look at me, looks over to the cashier and says "You dumb ass, cain't you see that boy's from France - he's wearin' a quilt
I didn't laugh but I did almost piss myself.