The mall post office, late at night, locale of the Aussie woman calling me a mongrel, is quite the laboratory of human intercourse (as Eudora Welty would attest).
"Are you on line?"
"Yes." (Although I was and I wasn't, since I was fooling with customs forms.)
"You must be from New York," I said.
"Because of my accent?" he said.
"No, because you said 'on line' instead of 'in line.' That's said only in New York City or immediate vicinity."
"You a linguist?"
No, just a Laughorist.