I Miss My City

Here I am, in a small town called Rockville, Maryland. I came here with John, to meet his family and friends and go to lots of cute mini golf places at Ocean City. Well, the cute mini golf places are already out, as the trip to Ocean City has been canceled. And we haven't really met anyone yet, either. Pretty much, we've hung out in this budding small town suburbia. And don't get me wrong -- it's pretty quaint and gorgeous. But it isn't New York City, and I miss my hustle and bustle and grime already. For instance here, the sidewalks are utterly devoid of trash. People stop driving to let you cross even if you have the don't walk sign, and they won't start up again until you're across the street. I got complimented twice in a matter of two days. Everything is nestled in a five block radius and once you get past that, there's nothing to do. There is literally zero crime here. I have not seen one person who looks remotely homeless, and I doubt they exist. Rent for a two bedroom, two bathroom apartment is only $2,300. ... In my angry, pricey city... that'll get you a studio the size of John's bedroom closet, with walls you can hear every argument or sexcapade the neighbors have. And yet I'd still take that, with its glorious skyscrapers and humid, dirty (but way cheaper!) subway and multitude of different languages you can hear on the street, over this. Why? Beats me, but once you know New York, it's hard to leave.