Even though I live in the Florida Keys, which are about as far south as you can get in the U.S., the island chain isn't what you'd call the Deep South.  Too many of us are transplants -- freshwater conchs -- from all over the country.  The native born Keys people are different, too, all in their own way. 

When I think Deep South, I think of Georgia, Alabama, Louisiana, the Carolinas -- pretty much any place south of Maryland.  I haven't spent much time in these states, except for a couple of weekend trips to New Orleans.  Most of the time I've driven through on Highway 95.

Right now, the dogs are home with a dogsitter and I'm in Greensboro, NC.  I flew up to join friends for the Springsteen concert tomorrow night.  Wait -- it's actually already very early Saturday morning, so that should be tonight for the concert.  More on that experience after it happens.

This isn't a long trip, so I'm only getting a little of the flavor of the South, but it's been a sweet taste so far.   There's a difference in the energy and mannerisms that comes across slow and easy.  I don't have a sense of laziness, more of ease and a confident attitude that things get done without anyone making themselves crazy.

You know how when most flights land, it's like people cannot wait for that jet door to open so that they can rush out?  The man in the seat before me jumped up pretty fast -- and then proceeded to get everyone else's bags out of the overhead compartment for them.

The taxi driver dressed like he was ready for Sunday church in neat, pin-striped trousers, with a sweater over his collared shirt and shined shoes.  He touched the bill of his cap (not a baseball cap) when I arrived at his vehicle and greeted me with almost courtly politeness.

I'd booked my hotel room online last week.  When I checked in, the desk employee looked at the rate I was paying for tonight and told me it was too high.  She changed it on the spot to one $40 lower.  I stay in this chain on a regular basis and have never had that happen.  Coincidence or a different sensibility?

After checking in and catching up on some personal business for a few hours, I walked over to a local barbeque restaurant.  Maybe I've just grown accustomed to expecting less, but the waiter was almost too attentive.  A few minutes after delivering my blueberry mojito and taking my dinner order, he stopped back to ask me if my drink was okay.  Once my meal arrived, he checked back at least twice to make sure I was happy and didn't need anything, and then a third time to ask if I wanted dessert.

Up home in the Northeast, you'd assume the waitstaff was rushing you so they could turn over the table and get another check going.  Not here.  He really was just providing caring service and I felt like I could have stayed there another hour without anybody urging me out the door.  The food was delicious, too.

It's going to be interesting to see what else I notice about the local residents.  I've been to many Springsteen concerts, but never one in North Carolina.  I'm used to the hard core fans from the Boss's home turf, myself included.  I wonder if the other people in the arena tomorrow will be as hard core, but just seem a little less intense about it.