Bean Burritos are a sign of a good day

The Scene: Rushing home to the Avenues after dropping my nieces off at a friend's house in South Jordan

I was blasting this, or something like that, when I pulled up to a stop sign. Faintly, I hear a noise from my left window. Confused, I look over and there's a guy, probably about 25, looking at me. I turn off my music and say, "What?"

"Jersey. You're from Jersey. What part?"

I get this question at least 2.5 times a week and usually the person knows nothing of the geography. So, I half heartedly ask, "Do you know the area at all?"

"Yeah! I grew up in Pennington!"

And right there on the street corner both our faces glowed. It was priceless. We swapped names and he asked if I lived in the aves. "4th ave. you?" Joe points behind him.

*side note: about a week ago, I was joking with some friends that 75% of the boys in NJ are named Mike, Dan...and Joe.

--2 hours later--

I am having lunch with my new co-workers and one of them asks if the car with the NJ plates was mine. I told him yes and he says, "I grew up in Freehold!"

I meet at least one person a week from NJ. We're small but mighty. I have concluded that Utah is home to the most Jersey transplants than any other state...as well as those who have had ACL surgery.

It's really incredible.