Avenger
Well-Known Angler
Good Sound Advice, but the "Don't get a Lobster License Plate" is ill-advised since many Lobstermen have them...
Maine has always drawn people from away looking for a quieter pace of life, access to the outdoors and the self-satisfaction that comes from rising above the rat race to lead a Thoreau-approved existence.
When the pandemic made getting away from the hustle and bustle a more urgent health matter, and remote work made it possible without giving up big-city salaries, moving to Maine became a much easier and more desirable choice for many people, with climate concerns helping to continue that trend.
But as idyllic as their Maine lives may be, while driving up housing costs for the rest of us, there is one uphill battle they face: convincing everyone else they belong.
As long as people have lived here, there’s been a hierarchy of claims to the state measured by longevity, from how many generations a family goes back to the number of winters endured (conveniently disqualifying seasonal residents).
While contributing to the gentrification of Portland’s Munjoy Hill in the mid-2000s, I learned to keep my head down until the actual yuppies moved in, but not without making a few Maine faux pas along the way.
So take it from someone who knows. If you’re looking to blend in, there’s some basic conduct that will help you fake it until you make it, at least long enough for the next wave of newbies to arrive, giving you someone to snub in turn.
DO get Maine license plates as soon as possible, immediately if you’re from Massachusetts. The sight of that red-and-blue lettering out the corner of an eye can send a Maine driver into preemptive road rage. For the rest, having an out-of-state plate means, at the least, you forfeit any forgiveness for imperfect driving.
But DON’T get the lobster specialty plate. The cartoony coastal scene with a cooked lobster inexplicably resting on a rock looks like the type of botched AI cliche that lets us breathe easier about our job security, for now.
DON’T add “Maine” or “in Maine” to your email address or social media handles. We know you’re excited and want to constantly remind people online about your superior life choices, but living here is not a personality trait. Plus, can you imagine anyone in your boring home state doing the same? No, because that’s not what people who are from places do.
DO learn how to pronounce Maine towns, counties, rivers and landmarks, starting with the York County city of Saco (SOCK-o). If you’re a quick study, you can move onto common Franco-American last names, and don’t go thinking your high school French will help. Here, Beaulieu ends with an “r.”
DON’T constantly talk about where you used to live and what you miss about it. Maine is not going to have all the amenities that Brooklyn does. You can’t order takeout at all hours of the night (though you can get weed delivered now). Things that are fair game to complain about? The weather, road construction, road conditions, the cost of anything, Massachusetts drivers.
DON’T disparage Maine icons, like whoopie pies, L.L.Bean and lobster rolls with mayonnaise. You’re not more of a lobster “purist” because you prefer them with butter. Feel free, however, to openly dislike Moxie.
DO figure out what Maine has to offer you. You don’t need to become a Registered Maine Guide or start lobstering on the side to prove yourself, but you should find a way to enjoy what’s unique about the state however it makes sense for you, whether that’s climbing every 4,000-foot peak, finding your favorite doughnut shop or appreciating the lack of congestion on your commute, at least once the tourists leave.
That M@$$hole plate sets driver's teeth on edge in every state except Hawaii. And that's only because they haven't seen any yet.
No New Englander can pronounce an "r" in the first place. So you'll always have Beaulieu to separate the wheat from the chaff.