A few months ago, I did a blog about New York. It was about how our parents, who had moved to Long Island, New Jersey, and Westchester, felt about New York. New York used to be nice but it changed was the general idea. But the kids, the baby boomers of said parents, were attracted by New York. They liked walking around Times Square and midtown. They loved the Village, East and West. It was the land of freedom, sex, the counterculture, and drugs. Young suburbanite baby boomers drove their parents crazy by their desire to hang out in the city.
"You can hang around there if you want to. I don't see the attraction in being in a place dominated by drug crazed Negroes but if you want to, that's okay. Just get out of there (at night being replaced by) by midnight. That's when the cops all leave and it's a free for all."
"Mom, it's not that bad. How am I supposed to learn about things if I can't go to the city (whine)"
Among the hip intellectual crowd in Hackensack, a working knowledge of the city was de regure. You were supposed to know the subways. You were supposed to know the hip places to hang out near Saint Mark's Place. You were supposed to know about falafaels.
Editor's note: My blog has been discovered, albeit in a small way, by Kelly Heyboer's column, Best Blogs of New Jersey. The thing I did on underground newspapers made the list in September. Now I can wear sunglasses inside and go to Starbucks. I'm so happy.