Southern Hospitality

This morning we drove to Florence, Alabama (Do you know how hard it is to type Alabama with a broken 'a' key?)  to visit Patrick's grandfather for the afternoon.
 
On the way to Florence, which is about an hour away from Madison, we came to a four-way stop. On the cross street, a truck sat at the stop sign, parked next to a car in the next lane, facing the opposite direction. The two drivers were talking, and the man in the pickup truck pointed down the road, apparently giving directions. Behind the truck was another car, and the woman in the third car sat there, waiting patiently, for the two to finish their conversation & drive on--which did not happen in the time it took us to pull up to the intersection, stop, and continue on our way, while I stared out the back window agape at the overwhelming lack of urgency every person involved in the situation seemed to possess.

I am certainly not in Boston here.