Maryland Gothic
  • You look to the East and see the Chesapeake Bay. That’s certainly new. 
  • Redskins, Ravens, and for some reason, Cowboys: There certainly are a lot of them around here. You’re certain they know nothing about football.
  • You speed on the highway towards the Beltway on Monday morning. Devil take the hindmost, after all.
  • You go fossil hunting in Calvert cliffs and find a human skull. At least you think its human; That’s what it tells you, anyway.
  • Some days you eat far too much crab. Other days crabs eat far too much of you.
  • You walk down the deserted boardwalk of Ocean City, wondering whats at the end. You hope you reach it soon. You’re running out of food.
  • You eat Old Bay on everything. You have no choice. It  just shows up on its own on whatever you put in your mouth. You’ve forgotten what bread tastes like.
  • The oyster restoration efforts are working. The water in the Bay is getting much clearer. You can finally see what the skipjack sailors labored to hide from mortal eyes over the past centuries.

Why does nobody ever talk about how weird Maryland is? 

Nobody ever talks about Maryland, period. It’s like they forget it’s a state. There’s no real stereotypes about people from Maryland, because it’s right in the middle of the east coast, EXCEPT everyone from Maryland is obsessed with crabs and Old Bay seasoning. You may think I’m exaggerating, but my friend’s brother used to actually drink Old Bay straight. The only time I ever saw my boyfriend look at me with anything other than pure love and respect was when I said that I thought crabs served in the shell were overrated. McDonalds in Maryland serves Filet-o-Fish WITH OLD BAY SEASONING. Once I saw a production of The Little Mermaid in Maryland, and the actor playing the chef sang “now some Old Bay!” instead of “now some flour,” and the audience burst into rapturous applause in the middle of the song. Old Bay is as essential to Marylanders as flour.

The official state sport of Maryland is jousting. No joke.

And once, I went to a McDonalds’ down the road from Camp David while George W. Bush was staying there, and there were free-range chickens who lived in the parking lot. It made me uncomfortable.

Edgar Allan Poe, John Waters, Frank Zappa, and F. Scott Fitzgerald are all  from Maryland. Oh, and John Wilkes Booth. Something weird is in the water there. My money’s on Old Bay.