I grew up in the country. Like the middle of nowhere, lived on a dirt road country. Our land was mostly wooded and had a nice little creek (that's 'creek', not 'crick') running through it. My brother and I spent all our free time outside, building forts, making paths and doing other hick things.
In all those years, I never one single time got poison ivy. I was so proud of this 'skill' that I one time rubbed poison ivy leaves all over my arms and legs to prove that I couldn't get it. So, I find it very odd that now, when I live in the city, miles and miles away from a poison ivy plant, that I have a poison ivy rash on my foot. I can only assume that I came in contact with a leaf at a cook-out this weekend. It sucks.