Story Time: 

When I was younger, my family went on a lot of road trips. My dad worked for a helicopter logging company, and we’d trek around to wherever he was staying, and hang out in really interesting small towns and trailer parks. (There was one, seriously, that used to be a hippie commune and was still called ‘Happy Camp.’ We threw a children-of-the-trailer-park parade. It was incredible.)

One Thanksgiving, we spent the holiday in the trailer in this small town called Concrete. 

It was awesome,  we met a real-life Santa, and saw frankly magically large deciduous leaves.

But I digress.

When I got back to school after Thanksgiving break, our teacher was trying to teach us about proper nouns. She asked us to think of a proper noun that was related to whatever we did for Thanksgiving.

Aha!, thought a young Caitlin. I went out of town, I’ll just give her the place-name, capitalize it, and call it good.

Unfortunately, my teacher was an idiot.

“Caitlin, ‘concrete’ isn’t a town, it’s a type of building material. Good try, though!”

“No. No, not like..sidewalks. I mean that there is a town in Washington called Concrete.”

“Caitlin, I’m sorry, it is a noun, but I can’t put the capital letter on the front.”

“I didn’t visit some block of concrete somewhere in the state, I went to a town whose name is Concrete.”

“Caitlin, that can’t be true.”

“BRING ME A MAP. IS THERE A MAP IN THE CLASSROOM. I WILL SHOW YOU ON A MAP.”

“Caitlin, sit down.”

I was pretty mad.

It has always bugged me. 

But it doesn’t come up a lot.

But now, Sam and Dean Winchester are fighting Supernatural forces in Concrete, Washington and fuck you, lady, your proof is on the television. 

Vindicated!