Theres a town in Newfoundland called Dildo. It kinda sucked.
There's a town in Newfoundland called Dildo. It kinda sucked. Courtesy of the Kate K

As the crow flies, Seattle lies roughly 3,000 miles west of St. John's, Newfoundland & Labrador, the capital of Canada's easternmost province, and a city where I lived for a year and a half. Before moving to the island, I had visited several times and loved it. I delighted in the picturesque downtown, the colorful slang of Newfoundlanders, the abundance of fish'n'chip outlets. Newfoundlanders had adorable accents and seemed like really nice folks! I was screeched in, kissed the cod, and ate the not-at-all-proverbial fried baloney ("Newfoundland steak"). I couldn't wait to move there. 18 months later I chose to return to Seattle because it was the farthest away I could get from "the Rock," as they called it, without having to take another boat.

To call Newfoundlanders insular is kinda like calling the night the Titanic sunk a rather serious evening. There's only about half a million of them, clustered together at d'arse end'f d'worl' in a place that even the Vikings had the good sense to abandon. Newfoundland was a self-governing dominion until joining Canada in 1949, and since then it has primarily served as a punchline. They're a proud, defensive people, in the way that hillbillies and rednecks are proud and defensive. They reserve their legendary geniality for those whose ancestry they can trace back several generations and for tourists who are destined to leave in a few days.

I began seeing targeted ads a few weeks ago for The Seattle Rep's production of Come From Away, a musical chronicling the week nearly 7,000 travelers spent trapped in Gander, Newfoundland after the FAA closed American airspace on 9/11, effectively doubling the population of the town. Immediately following a sustained eye roll, I thought, "They're calling it Come From Away? G'wan!" See, to Newfoundlanders, there are three types of people: Townies (people from St. John's), Baymen (Newfoundlanders not from St. John's), and Come From Aways (everyone else). While not exactly a pejorative, CFA is definitely a term intended to "other" outsiders. Newfoundlanders know you're a CFA the minute you open your mouth. "Yer not from aroun' here now, are ya missus?" they'll ask. Answer affirmatively and that'll be the last exchange you'll have with most of them.

With a significant chip on my shoulder, I was persuaded to see it, and, b'y...it's a really good show. Come From Away clocks in at about an hour and half with no intermission and I didn't once look at my watch. The pacing was tight as each member of the small cast rotated with ease through numerous roles, portraying both townspeople and a group of diverse passengers. The Newfie accents were on point, if a little toned down for the general population, and weird bits of Newfoundlandiana—like everyone hanging out at Tim Hortons and Islanders' affinity for Pepsi—rang particularly true.

Like a lot of great stories, Come From Away takes an extraordinary event and focuses on the human relationships that are forged (and sometimes unraveled) under the circumstances. Although not explicitly a story about 9/11, there are definitely a few scenes that poignantly capture the confusion, sadness, and uncertainty that most of us who are old enough to remember cycled through that week. These moments linger just long enough to stick in your throat before the story moves along.

The hospitality shown to the Plane People by Newfoundlanders after 9/11 is truly the best of humanity responding to the worst. "You woulda done the same" is a refrain in Come From Away, and I agree: there's nothing inherently Canadian or Newfoundlandish about their response other than the venue. After all, it's pretty easy to be excellent to each other when the others will GTFO in a few days.

Canadians tend to engage in rather strenuous back-patting over how damn nice they are in general and in the days immediately following 9/11 in particular. Once Come From Away is licensed to community theaters, it's destined to be continuously staged all over the Rock, into perpetuity. With a little luck, it'll inspire a little introspection and soften Newfoundlanders to the Come From Aways who decide to stay.