Gainesville — This time last week, I was somewhere between Virginia and Tennessee frantically looking at a map while trying to steer my car around several 18-wheelers that were starting to drift into my lane.

It was day two of my three-day trek from Rhode Island to Gainesville – a journey that would take me through 10 states and across nearly 2,000 miles – and I thought I was lost. I also thought I was dying of heat stroke.

It turns out I was wrong on both accounts because eventually I made it here, only to discover that I was very much alive, and even hotter.

Fresh out of college and feeling adventurous, I accepted a job at the Register on the Monday before I left. The same day, I quit the receptionist job I had started maybe a week before and went home to pack. I was about to leave the smallest contiguous state in the country for the biggest one.

“You’re the bravest person I know,” one of my friends told me the night before I left.

You see, there’s a mentality in Rhode Island (a state in which all points are within an hour drive of each other) that anywhere more than 15 or 20 minutes is “so far away!”

Not to mention, I had never been to Gainesville before. Most of the knowledge I had about Texas I had garnered during airport layovers in previous years, and a quick scan of the city’s Wikipedia page. Although, I did get a fair warning from my editor-to-be that Gainesville was a very small place.

The town of Narragansett, the Rhode Island locale where I spent most of time throughout college, wasn’t exactly a metropolis, but it didn’t quite prepare me for just how small Gainesville was.

On the first night here, I drove downtown to take a peek at the city where I’d be living and working. The buildings reminded me of sets from old Western films.

I’ve lived in New England and Pennsylvania for the last half of my life, and while the landscape is quite different, if there’s a single observation I’ve made, it would have to be that people down here are much friendlier.

When I arrived in town, I checked into my hotel and had a chat with the clerk. She knew the paper’s editor and had even worked here herself. When I was checking out, the same thing happened. This clerk already knew where I was from and where I was going to be working. And I found this almost alarming.

Walking downtown it’s the same thing. In fact, the first few times people smiled and said “hi” to me on the street, I began to wonder, “HOW DO YOU KNOW ME?!” For a second there, I wondered if I was in some kind of trouble.

I was also taken aback when I left my wallet at a gas station the other day. When I went back to see if it was still there, the man handed it to me and I panicked as I looked through the folds, wondering how much cash would be missing. After realizing it was all there, I had to ask myself why these people were so nice. Did they have some sort of motivation? The sentiment was overwhelming.

I got over that quickly, but my fears of living here have now been channeled into how much weight I’m going to gain (well, that and if I’m going to have to buy cowboy boots and say “ya’ll”).

On one of my first days, I stopped at a Whataburger. And let me tell you, what a burger. It was huge! And Taco Casa – you mean to tell me there’s a whole house devoted to tacos?

Not to mention, there are Sonics all over the place. I’ve spent the last decade watching Sonic commercials, but have yet to be within less than a 200-mile radius of one. I had to call one of my friends to let her know that these establishments actually do exist.

Although, I will miss Dunkin’ Donuts. I typed in Gainesville’s zip code on the company’s website, and zero results were found. Looks like no more Dunkaccino’s for me. It’s strange being in a place where there’s not a franchise on every corner and I’ll admit that I attribute part of my success at my college newspaper and internship to their caffeinated beverages.

So, while I’ll have to find a new place to get my coffee fix, at least one thing’s familiar.

I’ve only seen a handful of them, but most newspaper offices are the same: a hodgepodge of old furniture, lapsed technology and, of course, the faint buzz of a police scanner. The Register is no different (with the exception of a bunch of empty Dunkin’ Donuts cups).

I’ll miss driving past the Ocean State’s rocky coast and sandy beaches on my way to work, but overall, I think I’m going to like it in Gainesville.