It came out of nowhere on the air the other day, and then quickly went away again.
The Boston Accent.
You know, “pahk ya cah.”
Sometimes it swoops down like a crazed bird, attacks my lips, then flies away before I even know what hit me.
On the air, it doesn’t happen very often. Once a season. Maybe once a year. I’ve only been working in Connecticut for 35 years, so I’m still trying to get it right.
But after the “what the hell just happened” feeling goes away, I actually have to smile and enjoy the moment.
Hey, it’s where I’m from. It’s what I am. And it’s all good.