In which I confirm that Midwestern residents are, indeed, nice and polite.
The first leg of my return flight was from Indianapolis to Minneapolis (a lovely city I'd like to revisit as I haven't been there in over ten years--lots of good food there, too). When the plane rolled up to the gate, everyone remained seated and waited, patiently, till their row was ready to disembark and then stood up and retrieved their luggage from the overhead bin. No leaping into the aisle the minute the seat belt fastened sign is turned off, no opening of bins from which bags tumble out, no flinging of bags over seats hitting people in the head, no pushing and elbowing their way down the aisle, regardless of the presence of grandmothers with handmade noodle art clutched preciously to their chest or people with canes or pregnant women, or even just tired middle aged travelers like me. Everyone waited their turn.
It was wonderful. It was so kind and stress-free. It was so the opposite of what it was like when the next leg arrived home here in the Old Metropolis.
So I confirm, even though it is not a statistically and therefore scientifically valid sample, the cliche that Midwesterners are polite.