I grew up all over; perhaps because of this, I don't speak with any particular accent. Still, for most of my formative years I lived in the Deep South, and surely this has marked me. Most of the time I don't really notice, the north and south are just places to me, in no need of capitalization or special consideration.
My equality of geographic perception is mostly a mixture of obliviousness and habitat; most of the places I've lived have been well-mixed enough that they're not stereotypical of anywhere but themselves. I'm a bit of a half-breed so I fit in fairly well in either case - I might be a bit more southern than not, but more so in using "y'all" (which is a good and needful word anyhow) than in respectfully standing up whenever a lady not yet of my acquaintance enters the room.
Still, even someone as oblivious as myself can't avoid cases where I crash into a frame of reference so alien to my own that communication, even in the same language, breaks down at least temporarily. When I was still working at the grocery store in Wisconsin, a business-like lady, a bit older than I was, came up to me and said:
"Honey."
I waited for her to continue...
And I waited...
And I had a revelation.
"It's in the baking aisle."