Sitting in the outdoor café of our Ouray, Colorado hotel this morning, my husband Meade — who's very friendly (I call it "Hoosierly") with strangers — got into a conversation with a couple at the next table, and, naturally, one item of information exchanged was where we all are from. They were from Texas.
When we got up to leave, Meade leaned over to the man and said: "When you go back home, say hi to my favorite Texan."
You should have seen the man's reaction. It was as if someone had suddenly sprayed water in his face.
ADDED: Later in the day, we got into a tour vehicle (a 4x4) for a ride up into the San Juan Mountains, and the lady in the seat in front of us started up a conversation, immediately volunteering that she was from Texas. Meade said, "That's great, but I need to be careful. I'm afraid I offended some Texans earlier this morning when I told them who my favorite Texan is." And she said, "Oh? And who is that?" And Meade, "Well, I like President Bush." "He's my favorite too!" she said, giving him a high five and getting her whole family to turn around and meet him.