While in Boston recently, I quickly recognized that when walking down the street, one should hug the right side of the street, in order to not get run over by a fellow passerby.

I found that many residents walked through the city as though they were on their way to put out a fire. I received many pushes, catching the retreating glares as people sped past me.

Arriving back in Arkansas, I was amazed by the sudden change in pace. Now, I was the one pushing my way to get where I needed to go.

In the hallways at school, students were stopping in the middle of the hallway to take a picture with a friend or to call their mom.

They walked about as slow as someone trudging through a path covered with glue.

In Boston, I was somewhat offended when people would push past me, talking on their phone and not caring that they rammed into me. But looking back on it, it was really my fault.

That pace is how those Bostonians live every day, and I was in the way, stopping to snap pictures of Fenway Park, or an abnormally large dog walking by.

It’s not their fault that I was acting like a stereotypical tourist, taking up the entire path to take thousands of pictures of the same thing.

They were simply trying to go through their daily routine, and if I needed a little shove in order for them to do so, then so be it.

While the difference in lifestyle between Northerners and Southerners is large, I realize that no one should ever be upset when traveling up north, because it’s just how they live.

Except for the man in the big black Tahoe who almost ran me over when I was crossing the street, and proceeded to stare me down. I totally won our little staring contest.