Now that we live here, I’m finding that I love me some Huntsville, Alabama. Although, I officially live in Hampton Cove. Which is kinda officially the OXR. Which is to say “Owens Cross Roads” in an ultra cool way that sounds like you’re ahead of the zeitgeist. This city is such a unique place. A hidden gem of the south if you will. My family and I feel like we are beginning to get settled into life here. Many of you have saw to it we feel welcomed. We are so grateful for your hospitality and love! In learning about the culture of the city and outlying areas, we have noticed several things that make Huntsville unique:
- Engineers. Are. Everywhere. I’m learning to stop asking “So what do you do?” when meeting someone new. Instead I shall opt to cut down on the chit-chat by starting with “So what exactly do you engineer ’round here?” after saying “hello.”
- My use of “It’s Not Rocket Science” as a phrase has been re-evaluated. We are “The Rocket City” for a reason. NASA calls Huntsville home and I’ve now been privileged to meet many incredibly gifted people who are actual rocket scientists. But don’t worry. They’re some of the coolest people on earth…and beyond (see what I did there?). When in doubt of using the aforementioned phrase, they are qualified and can theorize, analyze, calculate and postulate (or whatever) if something is, in fact, rocket science on my behalf. That’s dope.
- Random, Nerve-Racking Explosions. With Redstone Arsenal so close and the proximity of the mountains, the sounds of the testing rumble around the south side of town in a way that makes me concerned the San Andreas Fault runs right under Bailey Cove. They keep you on your toes, thus your cat-like reflexes are sharpened for any HSV situation. These reflexes will come in handy when you need turn on a dime into Rosie’s (Big or Little) for some chips and salsa or catch the right exit on the Parkway.
- Something called “Chacos”. It’s a shoe-like-thing that straps to your feet. Most folks I speak to either can’t live without them or they rub their feet raw when worn too long, causing them to semi-loathe their trendy footwear. Still questioning if I should venture in. I could instead grab some nice running shoes from Fleet Feet for the price. Still debating with myself if it’s some sort of shoe/sandal conspiracy to make all feet look the same…I’ll let you know what I find out. They exist in other cities but are a thriving industry in the HSV.
- Traffic. Traffic. And did I mention traffic? Patience is a virtue quickly learned when behind a slow-poke heading over Cecil or just about anywhere else. Most times I could use Doc Brown to hover-convert my car to get out of it. (Shameless reference to one of my favorite 80’s movies in case you’re wondering) Maybe one of my rocket scientist buddies can help me out with that.
Still more lessons to be learned…
jbed
Photo credit – http://miriamsmith.choosecapstone.com/
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