Wait, is this thread about okra now? Can I threadjack with an okra story? Oh, what the hell -- I'm back, and I'll threadjack if I want to.
Two years ago, my parents and I moved from Nebraska to Louisiana. This occasion resulted in some pretty classic cultural whiplash, but nothing more notable than my mother's first visit to the local supermarket, at which she encountered okra and was blown away. Okra! In the supermarket! Truly, we had arrived in the South. She immediately grabbed two individual okra units* to show me later. Once she got to the checkout, the cashier looked at her tiny bag of okra units and at her and said, in the tone of someone who is now certain they're addressing a northerner, "don't need much okra, do ya?"
The best part of this: my mother came home and still showed me the okra with pride, even having been publically embarrassed about it previously. We were terminally Northern.
* I'm sorry, but I don't know what you call an individual unit of okra.[/small]