Awareness

I am a snob. Yes, I admit it - I am a snob. Not a mean snob - just a clueless snob.
The 1st time my husband called me a snob 7 years ago, I vehemently denied it and thought - what does he know about snobbery. He's from Jersey, where they know mob - not snob (yes, I know how bad that sounds but keep reading).
Last week on my way home from work, my car starts to sputter and eventually dies as I pull into a service station lot. Not good. When I realize that I am not going to make it home in one piece I immediately dial my darling husband and relay the tragic news to him. Without missing a beat, he tells me to call AAA and stay put (as if I had a choice).  He would throw the kids in the car and come to my rescue. As I breathe a sigh of relief, I can't help but feel a tinge of guilt about dragging the kids out in the freezing cold, way past their bedtime. So, I muster up the feminist buried DEEP within me and spew out, "I'm fine. Don't come. I'll hitch a ride with the tow truck driver."
Complete silence at the other end. "Really?" he finally responds, and I know it's too late and too wrong to say, "no, just kidding." "Really." I say, a little more quietly this time but I hear him breathe a sigh of relief and I feel better about my decision.
So an eternity goes by and I see the flashing lights of a monster truck behind me. OMG, what have I done? Am I REALLY to get into a car with a complete stranger? A tow truck driver, no less, with whom I have never even exchanged 2 words? He could be ANYBODY -  fresh out of prison for abducting his ex-girlfriend. Yes, my mind went there...
As I flag him down, he gets out of the truck, walks over to me and asks to see my AAA card. He must have noticed that my hand was shivering as I hand him my card because the first thing he says to me is, "you can get in my truck while I take care of this. It's nice and warm in there." Not exactly the words of a  kidnapper. Actually, kinda sounds like something Cooper would say. Well, I'm freezing so I grab my bag and hoist myself into the cab of his truck. True to his word, the heat was blasting and I start to defrost.
"Better?" he asks as he gets in. "Much." I reply. "Where to?" he asks. After giving him directions home, we exchange polite conversation - mostly about where we grew up, where we've travelled, jobs, etc...
What a VASTLY different life he has led. 40 yrs. old and still living in the town where he was born, never having travelled anywhere north of New York, south of North Carolina or east of Pennsylvania. He laughs when I explain what a wardrobe stylist does and that handbags can cost upwards of $50,000. Actually, I laugh at that as well. And as we laugh, there is no judgement, no distain - just 2 people sharing stories, experiences, life.
Later that evening as I lay in bed, my husband gives me a kiss on the head and tells me know proud of me he is. And I say,"Yes, you should be. Not because I made it home solo, sans rescue - but because my snob meter has come down a notch...or 2."

I think I see him smile before I fall asleep - smiling.