IMO there are plenty of extroverts here.
But this is also “safe space” where the strong introverts can admit that in public. So you see them standing up and speaking out like they’re at a 12-step meeting: “I’m [whoever] and I’m a total introvert.”
Why do they include the word “coast”? Why not Eastern and Western? To my mind, “coast” is absolutely unnecessary. Instead, adds some ambiguity - suggests some meaning that is arguably incorrect. or unclear.
I suspect “West Coast” is an artifact of their origins in California. Of course, when they were solely based in California and the SW, they didn’t have to designate their HQ as coastal - or even western. Once they crossed the Mississippi and perceived a need to bifurcate operations, they were free to choose whatever descriptors they wanted. I wonder if retaining the coasts suggests a plan to eventually add additional zones, such as Midwest?
As a recently retired GIS professional, my wife bought me a globe. Great, it’s lovely.
But we may need to by a new one every year.
Collect the whole set! 
FWIW I grew up just 20 miles south of you in Summit County, with the same Cleveland-cum-Western-PA family heritage, and my neighborhood had a crick. Although, even “up” here north of Akron there’s a lot more West Virginia influence than you find in Cleveland proper.
The “difference” between a creek and a crick is news to me, though. Sounds like the distinction is whatever someone’s older cousin may have told you once.
On the first day of high school freshman history class, the teacher had everybody draw a world map on a letter sized piece of paper. He basically told me, “that’ll do” when I wrapped the paper into a cylinder to make sure my projection was lined up in the Pacific.
I read the encyclopedia for fun and was a total map head. Nowadays, I’m carving the globe onto Granny Smith apples upon request.
Pretty cool. But dude, where’s my Philippines???
The exact same thing happened to me at the same time. All of my high school notes were in cursive, but college was so much faster-paced that my cursive handwriting became illegible, so I switched to printing. The last thing that switched over was checks…I decided since I was printing everything else I should also print the payee and amount on my checks.
The only thing I write that is still in cursive is my signature, which is more of tughra than anything else now. I blame the Navy making me routinely sign fifty (50) equipment tagout line items in a row, followed by signing fifty individual tags. There’s no faster way to devolve a person’s signature than that.
One of the lasting lessons from my high school years was how to fill out a check to foil forgery (which turned out to be a much smaller problem than Mr. Harmon implied, although possibly because of the lesson, I suppose). The method involved always printing the payee and amount, and using capital letters (larger ones for the first letter of a word, smaller for subsequent ones). 1973, freshman social studies.
I made the same transition from cursive to printing block letters in high school. My cursive has always been bad. I never liked it.
On a bad tremor day, I need to ask a co-worker to be my amanuensis to get my route sheet filled out at the end of the shift. On a good day, I have to use my right hand to restrain my left, so my times are (barely) legible when I write them down.
My signature is created one letter at a time, using the Palmer style of cursive (just like we all saw arrayed above the chalkboard in elementary school sixty years ago). Sometimes, when I’m feeling ambitious, I take a little extra time and make the letters look joined up.
Speaking of elementary school, I always sucked when it came to labeling the countries on pre-drawn maps of Africa and South America (way to bring us back to the topic of geography, @kaylasdad!).
My very first obsession in life was geography and memorizing national profiles the way most kids do baseball cards. My real obsession was knowing what resources were available and where and then trying to figure out how they could be equally distributed so there would be no poor starving people. Everyone thought I was so weird I had to suppress that obsession. That went from age 6 to about 12. Encyclopedias were my only source.
I grew up near a “crick”. Everyone, young or old, would say “Goin’ down by the crick.”
But if we used the name of the crick, it was "Harmony Creek", and the street that paralleled it was “Harmony Creek Parkway.”
You need to monetize that somehow! At least get hired by the Minnesota State Fair to stand outside the Apple Pavillion…
Well, that’s become a No-Longer-A-Problem!
My kid takes one look at a card from grandma (who, though pushing 100, still writes beautiful cursive with a fountain pen) and says “She wrote in code again. Can you read it to me?”
By the way, my millennial SIL’s signature was the last cursive he used, but that’s evolved to a straight line (hey, it works, and it’s quick)!
Can you tell me where I can score some gutta-percha?
Your local endodontist?
Oh, God… for some unholy reason one teacher spent way too much time in grade school quizzing us on the chief mineral exports from each country in South America.
To this day, when I hear “aluminum”, I think “And British Guiana exports bauxite!”
Curse you, Miss Sackett!
(Yeah, I’m old, it’s Guyana now, and they’ve since discovered crude oil reserves off their coast, so I’m sure that’s their major export now.)
I remember in elementary school, we had a big world map with little icons for all of the various sorts of resources found in various places: There were sheafs of wheat and ears of corn in the American midwest, symbols of ore and coal in the mountains, etc. I was very relieved to see that, of all of the little radiation-trefoil symbols they were using as an icon for uranium, none of them were found in the Soviet Union, which meant they’d have a hard time building very many nukes.
It never occurred to me that we just didn’t know where the Russian uranium mines were.