@RobertOne Real life stories, I love the commentary. I'm a Brooklyn native and I remember when I first came to the south, Atlanta precisely. I was with my freshman year roommate, who is from Detroit and we were walking downtown near the famous Atlanta landmark the Underground Mall at Five Points. People were speaking to us, the "what's ups" and the "how y'all doings". Later on when we were going back to campus I turned to my friend and said, "How do you know all of those people?" Him being from another big, wild city full of rude people that don't speak turned to me and responded, "I thought you knew them" hahahahhahaha!
Another time after I had been in Atlanta for about three years I went home to see my family. My sister wanted to cook some dishes that I hadn't had in a good while, but first we had to go see somebody she knew. Anyway, so she has this link that we went to connect with who sells food stamps fifty cents on the dollar LOL, New York. So we go grocery shopping and are on the way back home on the train. There were a few guys sitting across from us and one of them made eye contact with me so I nodded my head and said, "What's up". Next thing I know the dude is like, "what the f@ck you mean what's up, what's up then $%&*!%", his partners are reaching and everything. I say something to the effect of, "whoa, whoa, whoa my bad, I'm from here but I live in Atlanta, I forgot where I was, no beef, quench". They chilled and we all ended of laughing with them telling me that they heard we have some nice women in Atlanta. During the laughter my sister turned to me and said, "boy, don't get me killed out here", we kept laughing, New York.
I can't begin to describe how you took me home for just a moment
@RobertOne. I love New York, the hustle, the rudeness, the style, going to see friends in my old stomping grounds and going into their building to be greeted with the remnant smells of millions of different dishes cooked, the ammonia funk of everybody that has pissed in the elevator and stair case and the gut wrenching stench of the last person to have smoked crack in the hallway, New York, eight million stories in the naked city. As Dorothy said in
The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, "There's no place like home".