Born and raised in Boston aristocracy, the traveler had become an insufferable pedant and always felt it his duty to correct the language of those around him. In line at an airline counter in Atlanta, an unintelligible rush of language, dialect, and other jargon confronted him. Thoroughly confused, he didn't know where to start the inevitable criticism.
Finally, in exasperation, he observed,
"I do wish you Southerners would speak English."
"We do," replied the young woman behind the counter.
"Well, it's not the King's English," he protested.
"Sure is," the woman responded. "Remember, Elvis was a Southerner ...