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With air travel at the bottom of everyone's popularity list, we can all hope that someone will soon invent direct matter transmission, like the transporter on Star Trek. What convenience, having a little transport pad in, say, the corner of your family room! Just dial the number of your destination, and zap, there you are!

Now, I have some friends in the area who are somewhat challenged by key pads and number sequences, and I worry about them in such a brave new world. What happens when they mis-key a digit, and end up somewhere unexpected? How will they know where they are? No doubt, arrival in a foreign country will be obvious. But how will they know if they've simply ended up in Yankeeland? With that in mind, and being a reforming Yankee myself, I've compiled a Northern Recognition Guide for Dixie Beam Travellers. Here are some of the hints:

- First, the easy ones. On arrival, you shake your head to clear the fog that comes from having your atoms dis- and re-assembled, and you notice that your Coke (or mineral water or mint julip) is a solid block of ice. Time to get out your credit card and dial again, before your fingers are too stiff to put in your pocket.

- You step forward and trip, due to the resistance of the 5 ft. snowbank into which you fall. Hopefully, considerate locals have stationed a helpful Saint Bernard nearby; otherwise, you need to learn a skill acquired by all Yankee children - that is, tunneling.

- Now for some more difficult ones. You materialize outside of a concession stand. When you ask what kind of Cokes they have, the reply is "Coke and Diet Coke", even though it's clear they have more than two taps. In the Northeast, you'll need to ask about "sodas"; in the Midwest, inquire about "pop". Also, if they sell junk food, you won't see Little Debbie, you'll see Tastykake or some other such name.

- If you're deposited by a road, just wave at a passing car. If the driver looks annoyed, startled or swerves toward you, you're definitely up north. It's been crowded up there so long that people gave up waving long ago - their arms just got too tired. And for over half the year, you want to keep your hands in your pockets anyway; who wants frostbite?

- Here's a tough one. As soon as your senses kick back in, they're assaulted by oompah music, the smell of bratwurst, and the sight of people in suspenders carrying beer steins: all set against a backdrop of Teutonic architecture. It can't be Germany, because you didn't pay for that, and there's no way Germany would have parking lots full of Jeeps and Ford Explorers nearby. Now, you might think you're merely in Helen, Georgia. But there's a town in Michigan, called Frankenmuth, that's just as rabidly German. How to tell the difference? Up there, people will be wearing actual lederhosen (leather shorts), rather than dying of heat prostration at the mere thought of doing so.

- Sometimes, there's another easy possibility, if you hail from Georgia. Look for exposed earth, be it field, garden or scraped roadside. There ain't nowhere up there with red dirt! I grew up seeing brown, black and tan stuff, but it's no comparison to clay that glows like it's radioactive.

There's one indicator that's no use anymore, namely accent. You're already used to the northern tongue, thanks to me and my fellow carpet baggers. And up north, there's many a country music addict, raised on the Nashville sound and Country Music TV. Nope, you just can't tell from dialect, anymore. Seems pretty strange that the once most obvious difference is clear no longer; that someone can sound like Slim Pickens, and come from Ohio! It makes me wonder if I live in the wrong era. Beam me up, Scotty!

Copyright ã, Douglas Holt, 2001