Virginia, where history is a contact sport, the weather can’t decide if it’s Southern or Mid-Atlantic, and everyone has an opinion about which part of the state actually counts. It’s a land of battlefields, beach traffic, Blue Ridge views, and the phrase “Well, technically this used to be part of…” If these ten things feel oddly familiar, congratulations—you’ve been in Virginia far too long, and you probably know at least one Civil War reenactor by name.
You’ve said “I’m from Virginia” and immediately followed it up with which part—because it matters.
NOVA, RVA, Tidewater, the Valley—each one thinks the others are doing it wrong.
You’ve sat in I-95 traffic and aged 10 years by the time you reached your exit.
Distance means nothing. Traffic is everything.
You’ve taken a field trip to a battlefield at least five times.
If it didn’t involve a cannon, a guy in wool, or the phrase “states’ rights,” was it even a real childhood?
You’ve eaten peanuts, ham, or oysters and immediately claimed they were “the best in the world.”
And you said it with a straight face. Because they are.
You know that when someone says “the beach,” they mean Virginia Beach—even if it’s three hours away and full of tourists.
It’s crowded, chaotic, and you still go every summer.
You’ve seen snow, sunshine, pollen, and a thunderstorm in the same week—and just shrugged.
Welcome to Virginia’s climate: indecisive with a chance of chaos.
You’ve fiercely defended either UVA or Virginia Tech, regardless of whether you went there.
“Hoo” or “Hokie”—pick a side or get out of the Wawa.
You’ve corrected someone who called it “Appa-lay-shun.”
It’s Appa-latch-uh. Say it wrong, and we will politely glare at you.
You’ve driven through a town that still proudly reenacts a battle they lost.
It’s not about the outcome—it’s about heritage, bless your heart.
You’ve heard someone refer to Virginia as both the South and the North, and honestly, they’re not wrong.
It’s like sweet tea and wine country had a slightly awkward baby.
If you read this while sipping sweet tea on a historic porch, dodging tolls in Hampton Roads, or arguing about barbecue styles with your neighbor, then congratulations—you’re Virginia through and through. Whether you’re hiking Skyline Drive, stuck on the Beltway, or dodging ghosts in Williamsburg, you’ve embraced the charming contradiction that is the Old Dominion. Just remember: it’s for lovers, sure—but also for long stories, longer commutes, and aggressively polite opinions.
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