I Hate New Hampshire - Revisited

After a long break from hating New Hampshire, I feel compelled to add one more segment. Months and dozens of entertaining comments later (some even insightful), one comment in particular (thanks S. CA Coastal) brought up a critical question. What happens if you HAVE to move to NH? Obviously we all have things that are out of our control, and if this is your cross to bear, my condolences. But, now what?

Here are my recommendations – if you are obligated to move to NH:

1) Live as close to the coast as you can. It’s not cheap, but higher population density gives better odds you’ll find humanity. And of course by “humanity,” I mean people that will talk to you.

2) Rent. Don’t buy. Aside from avoiding an enormous yearly tax bill, you will also have fewer obstacles to making a quick escape.

3) Take your annual vacation during black fly season. Go anywhere but NH.

4) Plan to take on a hobby. Unchecked, the social isolation will drive you nuts. A productive hobby might distract you. (I qualify with “productive,” because I fear some claim heavy drinking as a hobby.)

5) Get a quality GPS device. You won’t know where you’re going and nobody will give a crap. Best to maximize your self-reliance with high quality resources. This also will assure you’re able to efficiently reach the airport from any location.

6) Prepare for the worst. The infrastructure is what it is, and it sucks. Budget for all the best winter equipment (snow removal equipment, camping supplies), with the assumption that you will battle icy roads, power and water outages.

7) For driving safety, I suggest you purchase a bumper car. Obviously a tank or very sturdy 4-wheel drive could also suffice.

8) Have a sense of humor. If laughter is the best medicine, you’ll need an assload.

And get used to this scenery

THINGS I LOVE ABOUT NEW HAMPSHIRE

In the spirit of equal time, this segment is intended to balance my preceding seven part “I Hate New Hampshire” series. If you’re just catching the thread, I highly recommend reading the hate posts first as references build.

Manchester Airport – Although not a short ride, once you get there, New Hampshire’s principal airport is very nice. It’s easy to get around, small, clean, ample parking, and almost always running on time. But given the previous “I Hate New Hampshire” discussion, I would only recommend using it for a quick exit.

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That completes my list. Thank you for your time. Moving onward, here are my final thoughts on the overall topic of New Hampshire

In my Hate New Hampshire rant, it probably came off at points like I was issuing some backhanded hacks on Massachusetts (okay, perhaps not so backhanded). That’s a valid point – especially with that baby talk thing. In fairness, I have to say that I genuinely enjoy Boston. I visited several times and other than navigational issues it’s a pretty badass town. Can’t say the same about places like Worcester (which fyi is not pronounced like you’d think). Even people that live there aren’t too crazy about that scary ass town. Anyway, I would just like for Mass to do a better job of differentiating itself from New Hampshire.


To that end, I have a couple of suggestions. First of all, how about instead of border signs saying “Massachusetts Welcomes You,” perhaps go with “Welcome to NOT New Hampshire.” (Of course, 49 states could use this declaration to their advantage). And secondly, blame it on the friggin Patriots. Seriously, they name the team for a region? As a dude from Indiana, it’s true that I’m contractually obligated to hate the Pats, but this is beyond my bias. Beantown – you figured it out with the Boston Celtics, the Boston Red Sox, and the Boston Bruins. But what the hell happened with the Patriots? Fine, they officially reside in Foxborough, but a team doesn’t get to claim the whole damn region. No one else uses names like the Midwest Pacers, the South Panthers, or the Southwest Diamondbacks, unless it’s what you call your high school. Hell, take the name of the whole state if you like. But come on make a damn stand! I know the folks in Maine want a claim of something, but you don’t hear people from Wyoming bitchin for a share of the Nuggets do you? It is permissible to support a neighboring team or even a team across the friggin country if you like. People do it all the time for no good reason (bandwagoners). Even the New York Jets and New York Giants have taken a stand. Sure it’s idiotic to claim a town that’s not even in the same state you play in, but at least they took a stand. Anyway, the point is, the Pats are certainly part of the disease. Roll out a petition or something and we’ll start the healing there.

I Hate New Hampshire - Part 7 of 7

This is the final chapter of my seven part series – I Hate New Hampshire. If you’re just catching on, I highly recommend you start at the beginning and work your way forward. References build.

COMMUNICATION

“Live free or die” – In addition to being a state motto, this phrase is a conversation killer/crutch. The locals commonly dismiss arguments, or any challenging topic in general, with the statement, “Live free or die.”
Here’s a sample conversation –

Dave: “Do you understand that lacking state sales tax and state income tax means cash for education and infrastructure won’t just magic itself into the budget?”
Local: “Well, live free or die.”
Dave: “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Local: “You know. Live free or die!”
Dave: “You didn’t actually say anything. You may as well have told me to buy skim milk.”
Local: “I’m just saying – live free or die.”
Dave: Nonverbal response is smacking head repeatedly and praying for amnesia to delete the previous conversation.

I’m also convinced that locals really don’t understand the phrase anyway. Rather than something along the lines of - I shall live free or die trying, they actually think it means – you’d better let me do as I want to do, or you go die.

They hit you in the face with it coming in the front door. Notice the all caps, and pay special attention to that airport tag.

Signage ignorance/absence – One palpable symptom of social ineptness in the region, certainly including New Hampshire, is lack of signage. Not even Mapquest can make sense of Boston. And, it’s not just visitors doing the complaining. Locals painfully wear the battle scars from laboring through city traffic and zigzagging to a location of chance. Furthermore, it’s not just city driving. It’s a cultural thing. There is somehow an aversion to putting up a damn sign in the whole region. When on a road, it’s impossible to know what the hell road you’re on because they don’t put up signs at cross streets. And when you do get a sign, you’re looking at it from the wrong side of a barrier after already going the wrong way. Even walking is a chore. I took one memorable trip to a Dartmouth football game that started with 5-6 stops just to find the will-call ticket booth. One lady on the next to last stop happily explained, “Dartmouth is famously devoid of signs.” I doubt it has anything to do with saving the $16. Rather, it’s a statement - “We don’t want you here, and if you show up, good luck you poor inferior bastard.”

This is a shot from a moving car of some rare signage. About 40 states have never heard of frost heaves (the actual vertical expansion of the road due to freezing, creating dramatic trenches and humps). These signs are more or less put up randomly, no particular relation to the actual location of frost heaves. They just want you to know, they know the heaves are coming to get ya!

I Hate New Hampshire - Part 6 of 7

As indicated by the title, this is part six of a seven part "I Hate New Hampshire" series. This is not the casual observations of a visitor. Rather, my impressions were gathered during a painful year of actual residency. Beware all who follow.

SPORTS

Serial sports cynicism – FYI – New Englanders, certainly including New Hampshire folk, are generally avid fans of Boston sports teams (if they are into sports, that is). Just to recap, Boston has had a pretty good decade in professional sports – Patriots and Red Sox with multiple championships, and the Celtics with one this past season. Regardless, somewhere along the line, the folks in New England got used to the idea that Boston is Martyr Town, where the pro teams perpetually suck. It oozes out in the sportscasters commentary and in the tone of sports coverage in print and other media. At this point, you’d think they were disappointed with success. It kills their momentum. An example – “So, can you believe those piece of crap Celtics didn’t sweep the series?” (Some poetic license here, but you get the point). If you pay attention to interviews with Boston players and coaches, they almost always carefully emphasize that it’s a tough town to play in. Well, that’s not a very complex code meaning – ‘the fans and media treat us like crap.’ Generally I’m a big fan of cynicism, but at this stage their attitude reeks of hypocrisy and hints at entitlement. So the Bruins (hockey) haven’t won a championship this year – boo friggin hoo. Try to deal with being a Pacers fan for a while!

"Like, OMG! Can you believe there are people watching this game?"

Dodger Stadium East – Fenway Park is a justifiably notable historical baseball venue. It’s the type of place you feel obligated to go to if you’re in the neighborhood (and New Hampshire is neighborhood enough). Unfortunately, it seems to rank as much as a tourist attraction as it does a baseball setting. Consequently, you find German tourists fresh from Paul Revere’s house wandering around for 4 innings trying to find their seats (true story) and frat boys showing up to the game in the 4th inning (also a true story – “Hey dude! Did you see Drew hit that grand slam in the 3rd inning? I heard it on the radio! Sweet!” -- Yes, Skippy. I came to the game on time). Additionally, you have the constant distraction of kids successfully coaxing the crowd into reviving the wave (rather than watching the game), and beach balls bouncing onto the field and interrupting play (a la Dodger Stadium). Meanwhile, half the stadium is unaware of the etiquette of not walking in front of people during play (sort of like watching a constant stream of people walking back and forth during a movie), and Fenway is not at all designed to accommodate pedestrian traffic. There are seats that should wear the disclaimer ‘obstructed view’ that have no actual obstruction other than the hundreds of meandering idiots constantly blocking visibility. It’s a damn shame, because it is a historic park and a well-funded franchise, with half a crowd of educated baseball fans.

This half time show kept 'em glued to their seats, baby!

I Hate New Hampshire - Part 5 of 7

As indicated by the title, this is part five of a seven part "I Hate New Hampshire" series. This is not the casual observations of a visitor. Rather, my impressions were gathered during a painful year of actual residency. Beware all who follow.

HOUSING

Heating oil – Perhaps I’ve lived a sheltered life, but I never realized that for heating purposes this portion of the country keeps crude oil in a big ass tank in the basement, or often simply in the yard. Just in case you think that’s odd or unattractive, it’s overshadowed a bit by the huge friggin propane tank on the side of the house. Fortunately, you’re distracted from that by the huge hole you dug in the front yard for the septic tank. And fortunately, that’s obscured by the pile of crap you left in the front yard with a free sign on it.

This is a heating oil drum in some random NH basement. It is accompanied nicely by a random assortment of unused sports equipment and at least four well used AC window units.

Tyvek – If you are in to the carpentry thing, you might be familiar with this brand name. In New Hampshire, it’s hard to not want to buy stock. Tyvek is some type of insulation/structure wrap stuff that roughly goes over the raw timber. Somewhere after this, the siding creates a finished product – but that would be in states other than New Hampshire. In New Hampshire, Tyvek is the finished product. You commonly find Tyvek proudly advertised on the surface of random garages, out buildings, and houses for months and likely years. Visualize it in terms of NASCAR sponsorship on a house. People seem to give up, run out of energy, or become content with the Tyvek exterior and just let it ride. Luckily, New Hampshire is light in house farms and neighborhood covenants, and therefore nobody gets to sue you for poor taste. Civic pride seems as limited as the necessary skill set to put on siding.

I Hate New Hampshire - Part 4 of 7

As indicated by the title, this is part four of a seven part "I Hate New Hampshire" series. This is not the casual observations of a visitor. Rather, my impressions were gathered during a painful year of actual residency. Beware all who follow.

SOCIETY

The Accent – We’ll call it an “accent.” But it more or less would be called baby talk anywhere other than New England. If unfamiliar with it, part of the technique is to misplace your R’s. In other words, you drop the R at the end of a word and add an R to the end of any word that ends in a vowel. (Examples: pizza = pizzer, pasta = paster, Car = Cah, Driver = Drive-a). Essentially, this would be a speech impediment in any other part of the country, and you’d face years of speech therapy in the back room of your school library with some scary looking dude that passes out root beer barrel candy and hates kids. The great news is that if you birth a kid who can’t quite get the speech thing right, just export him to New Hampshire and you’ll save everyone a lot of trouble.

Standoffish – Before you even entertain a visit to New Hampshire, people will warn you that the locals are “standoffish.” You’ll nod and smile and channel what it must be like to visit France, then say – ‘whatever.’ But, don’t kid yourself. It’s there, and it weighs on the atmosphere like a lead septic tank. However, instead of being standoffish, it would be more accurate to say that they’re socially inept. New Hampshire folk have a very difficult time moving past discussing the weather and into developing an actual rapport. Certainly it has something to do with the general culture of the region in addition to the geographical lack of personal proximity. Overall, the experience of dealing with these folks feels like standing in a room full of supermodels while wearing thin, white pants and liberating a dubiously wet fart.

Tailgaters – No, I’m not talking about the fun game day / race day kind. Rather, I’m talking about the ‘can’t see the front hood of the car behind me’ variety. I arrived to New England with Nevada license plates and thought perhaps the constant tailgating had something to do with the colors on my car. However, that’s just how they roll in NH. Ironically, road signs in the state say something about ‘driving courteously is the New Hampshire way.’ I think this is an attempt at irony. It seriously doesn’t matter what speed you go, where you are, or what time it is. On any given road, you will instantly have some jackass riding your butt. You should also note that this is a rural society, where traffic congestion is a serious rarity. It's not like the roads are jammed up and you have to wait for a rare opening to pass. Even more perplexing is that when you eventually find yourself behind a slower driver, they actually are so unfamiliar with respectful driving that if you go to pass, they try to spoil the attempt by speeding up. My conclusion is that tailgating is their default position. The NH Driver Education manual reads - Get on the road; drive fast until you catch up with someone; stay on their ass as long as possible; repeat steps 2 and 3.

Nosy neighbors – During our introduction to the two nearest neighbors, my wife and I noted that both ladies felt obligated to toss in an unsolicited disclaimer of how they were not at all nosy. This was just the first clue that indicated exactly the opposite. Nosiness is especially ironic given the rural nature of the state. You sort of have to go out of your way to even have a sight line to the neighbors, but it’s possible. If you pay attention, the neighbors will repeatedly out themselves by mentioning some detail about what you did recently, whom they saw at your house, and whatever minute details of your day they ‘happened’ to notice. An actual quote from a neighbor when we were prepping for our move south – “I did see that you were up in your attic, so I figured something was going on.” Fortunately, we never got around to discussing my toilet paper usage, or bathroom schedule.

This view is considered socializing in New Hampsh-a

I Hate New Hampshire - Part 3 of 7

As indicated by the title, this is part three of a seven part "I Hate New Hampshire" series. This is not the casual observations of a visitor. Rather, my impressions were gathered during a painful year of actual residency. Beware all who follow.

ECONOMY

The tax myth – To say that the folks from NH are proud of the tax structure is like saying the Pope is slightly Catholic. They are ecstatic for any opportunity to boast about their innovative lack of income tax and sales tax. This ironic point of civic pride means the property tax is nearly as expensive as the property itself. It’s unclear if the percentage of locals that inevitably complain about the exorbitant property tax exceeds the percentage that passed 8th grade math. Obviously there are inescapable fiscal needs and the cash doesn’t magic itself into these projects, dictating the primary instrument of revenue is property tax. Consequently, there is no way to fund sidewalks, education, public works, etc, without begging the town locals for even more property tax money.

“Free Stuff” – In New Hampshire, when you just don’t feel like doing a run to the dump or the item is too big, you put your crap by the street and throw a “free” sign on it. Magically, it seems to disappear. The jury is out on if people actually claim the crap, or if some ‘good Samaritan’ with a big truck and good back is doing the neighborhood a favor by taking it the last mile to the dump.

A classic no frills New Hampshire road. I just wish I had thought to capture a broken down dishwasher or dog house with a 'free' sign on it.

I Hate New Hampshire - Part 2 of 7

As indicated by the title, this is part two of a seven part "I Hate New Hampshire" series. This is not the casual observations of a visitor. Rather, my impressions were gathered during a painful year of actual residency. Beware all who follow.

HEALTH AND SAFETY

Sanitary toilet covers – Disturbingly, bathrooms in New Hampshire have no sanitary toilet covers. Call me obsessive compulsive, and I’ll proudly wear that label when my ass is separated from another man’s feces. Perhaps the fairer and more conscientious gender could get by without sanitary toilet covers (and that’s being generous), but males cannot / should not look past perpetually pissed and crapped on public toilet seats. Until someone designs a better crapper, it will astound me that there are any public bathrooms sans sanitary seat covers. (I’ll save the tirade about how these never actually fit any toilet seat known to man for another day). Nevertheless, considering the number of dudes that sidestep hand washing, even if made available, plenty will continue to choose to ass swap fecal material by bypassing covers. But for the rest of us, how about giving a more user-friendly option than creating a toilet paper barricade and safer option than “hovering?” Unfortunately, this rant could apply to ¾ of the country. However, I anticipated a higher degree of evolution in New Hampshire – colonial old money refinement and whatever. Apparently, though, history and presumed sophistication does not translate into actual civility.

Sidewalks and bike lane aversion – I feel very fortunate to have not witnessed any motor vehicle / pedestrian accidents, but I know they must happen. New Hampshire’s road infrastructure is loosely based on rabbit and deer paths. The sparse population means they only have small, two lane roads that weave around like drunken frat boys. These lack shoulders, and infrequently host sidewalks or bike lanes. The combination turns even a simple task like checking your mailbox into a life or death adventure. Fitness and nature enthusiasts find it beautiful. I find it terrifying to drive up on darkly clothed teenagers riding skateboards at night. Interestingly, New Hampshire does post regular moose and deer crossing signs along the roads. At least the animals rate safer passage.

Even on this very road and in these conditions, or worse, I saw people walking dogs, and kids walking unsupervised. The only other choice was to hop on a snowmobile.

Well water and septic tank – This is another phenomenon not exclusive to the Northeast. In any state you’ll find rugged types that prefer wide-open spaces and that perpetual camp out under the stars atmosphere. However, in New Hampshire, home buyers have little choice. It’s either rural living or coastal living, and most people I know can’t afford an ocean view. The lack of public services is emblematic of New Hampshire. They have barely progressed beyond outhouses and wells that you run a bucket down with a hand crank. I know that septic tanks are an environmental improvement over dropping a duke directly in the stream, but my back mightily protested the 2 afternoons I spent digging a hole in the ground to locate and then have some dude suck out the poo. Seriously – there’s no trap door, nor outlet pipe. You literally have to dig a 2-3 foot deep, and about 6 by 8 feet wide friggin hole in your front yard, through grass, topsoil, and boulder sized chunks of granite (Did I mention it’s the granite state? That’s bad news for people that have to dig a hole or avoid radon). But needless to say, nothing screams sophistication like an exposed vat of crap in your front yard. “Call out the poo truck ma, the crapper’s full!”

As for the well water, I’ll simply say that I refuse to drink fluid from an aquifer my dogs crapped and pissed in. Yes, I understand there is quite a bit of filtering going on. But seriously, I like knowing the flavor of my water has nothing in common with that lazy piss the neighbor took out in the yard. Furthermore, no matter what osmosis and filtering type stuff goes on, I’ll still have my doubts. I want my water bathed in chlorine, loaded up with fluoride and glowing in the dark. Hit me with whatever you got that completely obliterates the bacteria and biological stuff.

This is a well water filtration system, located in the basement of my former home. That black cup like thing in front of the baby blue cylinder contains the filter. Disgustingly, this filter was way overdue for a change. It's only black because it's full of the aforementioned gunk.

The dump – Again we have to sight the NH rural reality here. If you live in the country, you have to adapt a bit to country life. Instead of complaining about having to toss my own trash and recyclables in the back of my car (envision the inevitable spillage and smell) and then take it to the dump (pardon me, they don’t call it dump, rather they say something more p.c. like sanitation depository, hygienic reservoir, transfer station or whatever), I should probably just say thanks for delivering my mail.

I Hate New Hampshire - Part 1 of 7

As indicated by the title, this is part one of a seven part "I Hate New Hampshire" series. This is not the casual observations of a visitor. Rather, my impressions were gathered during a painful year of actual residency. Beware all who follow.

CLIMATE

Air conditioning - There is no doubt that NH is a winter wonderland. However, even Canada has a summer, and there’s certainly a summer in NH that includes hard core 90-degree butt dripping heat and humidity. The locals are under the impression that denial somehow overcomes oppressive heat. Therefore, virtually no home or business has central air. And when denial inevitably fails, Home Depot’s stock goes bananas with a rush on air conditioning window units and fans.

Pictured is a new house in rural New Hampshire. Note the window unit AC in close proximity to a super attractive propane tank, and the unidentified vent pipe in the foreground.


Black fly season – I’m not kidding, there is such a thing. In addition to winter, spring, summer, and fall, the locals have named a couple of weeks in the vicinity of early spring – “Black Fly Season.” Apparently this is such a devastatingly uncomfortable period that the bulk of the population desperately cowers in their homes as if fleeing nuclear fallout. Those that must venture outside, frequently do so in beekeeper style gear commonly sold at local hardware stores. This is all to prevent any encounter with the nasty, biting, merciless, little swarming bastards. However, during my one year in New Hampshire, because of some unseasonably cool and dry weather, the season was either averted or very delayed (until after I left). Consequently, I found the constant threat of waiting for the other shoe to drop seems about as enjoyable as actually having the shoe drop. I spent a lot of time and energy preparing myself for the ‘nuclear war’ that never came. Unfortunately, I must apologize to posterity for the potential damage my onslaught of preventative insecticides inflicted upon the environment.

Eternal winter – Geographically this is no surprise. If you move north, you’re going to get some winter. However, this knowledge doesn’t make it suck less. This last winter New Hampshire collected 90 plus inches of snow. That’s over 7.5 feet if you’re keeping score. Sure, we all have our winter war stories, but this was no incident or event. It was a recurring nightmare. Even more amusing was the fact that the crap never melted. Like a ski resort, we boasted a snow pack measurement of multiple feet for 5 months. I forgot how big my driveway was because regardless of how well the snow blower works, you just can’t follow lines that grow vertically as well as horizontally. Regardless, I have to ask the question – why the hell did Pilgrims decide to settle the area? Was it the snow or the ice they found most alluring? Call me crazy, but if I’m Christopher Columbus, I hang a left at the snow and ice and land somewhere with a warm beach.

This is a familiar New Hampshire scene. The most prominent variable is not how often you need the snow blower (about twice a week); rather it's the final depth of the snow pack. Note this picture is very early in the season.