Catching Idle Butterflies

Could you repeat that?

Every state, it seems has its expressive quirks. David McClain mentioned a few days ago Texans talk slow. Up in NoDak, people talk fast, but also soft, slurring their words together, many times a person hard of hearing can have real trouble understanding.

For instance, Dave’s Uncle Philip asks, “Yeatin?” short for “Have you eaten, yet?”

Another is, “Whatdaheck!” Yeah, you can figure that one out.

Try this one: “Oofda” as in “Oh my goodness!”

There’s also the incorrect word usage that a Grammar Nazi like me cringes at every time I hear it: “I borrowed him $10.” *cringe* See?

I hear one other expression unique to North Dakota I’ve always liked, especially after I had a bit of trouble at DIA (Denver International Airport).

Flying has always been stressful for me. I enjoy the plane ride itself, but when I have to change planes, I always worry I won’t make it on time to my second plane, and I end up a day late because there are no other flights until the next day. The return trip I don’t worry so much, because I don’t need to be back home by a certain time.

Last year on my return home from the Christian Writer’s Guild “Writing for the Soul” conference, I check the monitors for my gate. 58 it says. No problem. I find gate 58 with an hour before it’s due to depart. I sit down and notice the marquee above the gate number says St. Louis, MO. Hmm.

I stand and check the monitor again. Gate 57.

Strange. I walk to Gate 57. That marquee says Chicago, IL. Okay. I check the monitor again. Gate 58 it says.

Now I’m getting really confused. I go to the desk and ask the attendant, “What gate is the Bismarck flight?”

“This one.”

“Are you absolutely certain?” I ask. “I’m feeling a bit like a yoyo here. The monitor keeps changing.”

He gives me a tolerant smile and says, “Yes. I’m certain.”

I sit down and not two minutes later that same man gets on the intercom and says, “Those flying to Bismarck need to go to Gate 59B. I repeat . . .”

I can’t help but laugh as I stand and head to Gate 59B. As I pass him, I grin and shake my head. He grins back, sheepishly.

As I walk down the hall, though, I keep thinking, “I hope they don’t change the gate again. I’m getting tired of this.”

I reach the end of a line about 20 people long. A gal in front of me is chatting on her phone and at one point exclaims, “Holy buckets!”

I set down my luggage and sit on the floor, leaning against the wall. I know I’m in the right line. I never heard that phrase until I moved to North Dakota.

What are some of the more interesting, confusing, or skin-crawling words and phrases you hear from your local citizenry?