It appears I'm not the only one with meandering accents:
I grew up in rural Oklahoma and Texas, but lived on the west coast for several years, then came back to Austin for graduate school, where I and many of my colleagues shared a grad student bullpen in the physics department. One day I called home to talk to my stepmom about plans for my dad's upcoming birthday. I called during the day, hoping to catch him out of the house, and so I called from the office. Talked with my stepmom a bit, and, as I always do, slipped out of my acquired west coast speech patterns and back into "Okie." Finished my call and turned around just in time to catch all of my friends dying laughing.
Another:
I was raised in Minnesota, but since heading East for college, I've lived in several of the great metropolises, and after twenty years I'm told I have a very neutral accent. It seems that I sound like the state of Ohio, or every network White House correspondent ever. If anything, a slight Virginia drawl has crept into my voice. But when I return to Minnesota to visit family, within minutes of departing the plane, even before I've left the airport, a Minnesota accent takes over, and I talk like a parody sketch of Sarah Palin auditioning for a part in the movie "Fargo," as performed on "A Prairie Home Companion."
Or so my wife tells me; I am completely unaware of any change in pronunciation, diction, or vocabulary. Apparently, the voice of one's nativity is so powerful that one can intend to say, "Yes," but have the words, "Oh sure, you betcha," come out of one's mouth, and still fully believe that one has just spoken the word, "Yes."
I really have no idea that I'm doing it either. Like accent apnea. But it will fade as soon as I get home.
The Dish 