drew tender square “228—what area code is that?” michael had just given his cell number to pull up his account info. we were at the at&t store getting help for his new samsung phone—it wasn’t recognizing his fingerprint, and he couldn’t make any outgoing calls. “it’s mississippi,” michael answered. “where are you from?” drew, the service rep, had that tell-tale smooth drawl. we heard it from across the room as we were waiting in line. “i’m from kentucky. are you an ole miss or mississippi state fan?” in southern circles, talk immediately trends toward football. it’s a way of life down there. “oh, ole miss; i went there.” “man, all my life kentucky has had a terrible football team.” drew had full sleeves of tattoos on both arms, all stars and shapes. the right side had a mix of colors, but the left side was done in black. he seemed too sweet for so much ink, with his ponytail and his nerdy eyeglasses. “well, they’re more of a basketball school,” michael agreed. “true. have you ever been to new orleans?” “of course.” michael doesn’t tell him he was born in metarie, just outside of jefferson parish. or that he went to school at loyola for a time. “that place is something else.” “it sure is.” i could hear michael’s accent starting to peek out, the long vowels becoming accentuated. generally, i can’t tell he’s southern unless he says the word lawyer: “luuhyuuh.” “i remember my dad sitting on the recliner when the bluegrass miracle happened and him being like, ‘we’re about to beat lsu.’” “that was terrible!” michael tells me later in the car that in the game, kentucky fans rushed the field before lsu’s hail mary pass, thinking they’d won. they dumped gatorade all over the coach and everything, tried to rip up the goal posts in anger after they realized they’d lost in the final seconds. this was back in 2002. “i can’t stand lane kiffen,” drew went on. “when that guy beat kentucky, he said he was going to celebrate the anniversary every year, and get a special shirt made for the 25th anniversary. he’s good at ole miss though.” kiffen’s the head football coach there now. michael agrees though he doesn’t watch football anymore; he stopped after jordan mcnair died of heat exhaustion during a strenuous practice at maryland three years ago. “what brought you up here?” michael asks drew. i notice the thick ring on his finger as he loads the sim card into the phone. “my wife got a job in ypsilanti, so i followed her up.” michael can relate; he didn’t follow me to michigan, but he met me here and stayed for that reason, realizing later that grad school wasn’t what had called him north, but something bigger. drew got the phone up and running quicker than we expected—the conversation made it seem like it was no time at all. “it was a pleasure meeting you, michael and cassie,” he said as we got up from the service desk. i could tell that he meant it. “i love how south always recognizes south,” i said to michael, as we walked back to the car. after we got home, michael said goodbye to his old iphone se. he got it back 2016; we’d gone to that same at&t store to set it up then, too. “you did good lil’ buddy,” he said, ceremoniously. he swiped the ‘power off’ button and the screen went dark. 210917 what's it to you? who go blather from