- You've all heard the term.
You know what it means.
You've muttered it with disdain
after some shiny car fails to signal properly,
honks unnecessarily,
or passes you on the right doing 90.
All you can do is shake your head.
[video game jumping sound "Bloooiiii!"]
FIBs.
[video game achievement sound]
As most Wisconsinites know,
this little acronym is the placeholder
for buckets of history, frustration, derision,
and maybe even a little envy.
I haven't traced the etymology of the term
because it's meaning for a boy growing up
at the gates of Door County was self-evident.
How about the time in the Boundary Waters
when the two dudes from Arlington Heights
stole my hat and my fishing pole
while I was portaging my canoe?
Or the time that that Bears fan took my Jim McMahon voodoo doll
that was attached to my father's bumper
and ran away with it?
"FIBs," I could only say, shaking my head.
I've met Wisconsinites all over the country,
from New York to San Francisco.
And if the conversation ever drifts
to that unruly, big-shouldered metropolis to the south,
as it usually does,
since I now make my home in Chicago.
I hear some variation of,
"Wait, you're a FIB now?"
That's right, dear listener.
This is a FIB talking to you right now.
I have been turned.
I first realized my purity had been compromised
when I replaced my Dairyland plates
with the dreaded cursive of Illinois.
I imagined the shame I would feel
driving up "43" for a visit home.
Had I fundamentally betrayed my origins? [video game beep]
Was it enough to be also wearing a Packers hat while driving?
What if I very carefully mouthed the words,
"I'm not actually from Illinois"
to anyone driving alongside me?
Would they get that I wasn't really a FIB despite my plates
and even though I was doing 90 in the right lane?
Would they understand that I was some other special category,
like a NIV, a Nice Illinois Visitor?
Or a WIWHATOBLII,
a Wisconsinite Who Happens To Be Living In Illinois?
Maybe I could buy an extra vehicle
and register it at my father's house
and only use it to drive up?
Is this how zombies felt, moaning and trundling up
to a group of old friends trying to fit in once again?
It amazes me that this anxiety can still send such strong jolts
down to the core of my being.
After all, I am many things now.
I'm a husband,
a father, a son,
a teacher, a writer.
We are all multi-faceted creatures.
No one trait can define a person, right?
[old school video game earn-a-coin "ga-ling!" sound]
These are the thoughts I hold close anyway,
as I cross the state line heading north.
We are all multi-faceted creatures,
I think to myself.
We are all multi-faceted creatures.
I believe this. I really do.
But in case you don't, do me a favor.
If you see me--
and to be clear, I am the FIB
who just cut you off for no reason--
and if you happen to catch a glimpse of me as I went by,
you saw consternation and onflict on my face as I did it.
Remember this plea.
Please remember, even as you curse my Illinois plates,
please remember, dear Wisconsinite,
I was once like you.
[video game "Game Over" sound]
* *