Kina is really fond of a particular brand of orange juice (high end, natch) that very aggressively markets itself as Floridian. On the label, under the expiration date, are the dot-matrix-printed words “ONLY FLORIDA FRUIT”. Somehow, this juice is so Extremely Florida that it has convinced her by osmosis that oranges only come from Florida, a state that is effectively an endless expanse of orange groves full of happy women with flowers in their hair who pick the oranges and squeeze them into sixteen-ounce bottles strictly for Kina’s enjoyment. Never underestimate the Florida citrus lobby and its careful maintenance of this shared delusion.
I haven’t told Kina about all the alligators, but I did point out that oranges aren’t the only thing from Florida. Her friend Des is a proud Floridian, for example. Kina replied that Sloanie’s mom Dara is, too (or her grandmother, at least). Even Kina’s own father is from Florida, technically! This led Kina to the conclusion that everybody whose name starts with D is from Florida, which is a reasonable hypothesis, given the context. “What about Sloanie? Where do people who start with S come from?” she asked. “I think Sloane was born in New York,” I said, “and you were, too.” She found that less crisp than the idea of a state overflowing with oranges and people whose names start with D, but New York isn’t the hubristic tropical paradise that Florida is, so what can you really expect?
If your name starts with S or K, know that you’re a native New Yorker for life by Kina rules. If your name starts with D, grab some oranges on your way up from Tampa. If you have literally any other name, let us know where you were born, and we’ll tell Kina where people with your initials come from.
P.S. The Unicorn’s name is apparently “Cloisters”