Hot air comes from a vent in some places. Places where a “register” is something that a merchant uses to ring up your order and store his cash.
I’ve lived all over this country, from Georgia and the Carolinas, to Boston, Florida, Denver, Seattle, and Los Angeles. I’ve visited family in Chicago, Wichita, Dallas and New Orleans.
But of all the places, the Deep South seems to have the most regionalisms.
“Chilluns,” or even “chaps” for children, plural.
You’re “in my light” if you’re blocking my view of something.
“Curb Markets” are convenience stores.
In Louisiana, there are no hoagies or subs. They’re all “Po’ Boys.” (Whereas in Boston, they’re called “grinders.”)
In the south, you vegetate in front of the TV on a “couch” but in Wichita it’s a “davenport.” In the NE, it’s equally often a couch or a “sofa.” (Unless, of course, it’s a “loveseat.”)
I can attest from first hand experience that all carbonated beverages are “coke” in the south, “soda” in the northeast, and “pop” in the midwest. There are also places where both “soda” and “pop” are recognized, like FL and CA. But only in the south if you ask for a “coke” will you be asked “what kind?”
Then there’s the whole “poke,” “sack,” “bag” thing that I could never figure out…