The following is quite long, but it completely sums up my formative years as a Columbus Ohio resident:
"Vacation" to you means driving to Put-in-Bay or Cedar Point.
If you've got money, "vacation" means jetting off to the Gulf Coast to
hang out with all your other Columbus friends in Naples or Sanibel.
You can tell from their accent if someone lives north or south of I-70.
You attended your senior prom only after a thrilling ride up the glass
elevator to dinner at One Nation restaurant.
You know the sheer decadent pleasure of building your own hot fudge sundae
at Max & Erma's.
"Bahama Mama" does not refer to any song, movie, or Caribbean
belly-dancer. It's FOOD!
You know what "sliders" or "belly-bombers" are.
Until like, a decade ago, the spiciest food you ever tasted was mustard.
Now we've got Thai & Ethiopian cuisine, foods marinated in jerk sauce, and
places that serve ostrich.
Prior to about 1990, your idea of "ethnic food" was either Irish or
German.
You think you've seen real snow. until you've spent some time in
Cleveland.
You've done "Dime-a-Dog Nite" at Cooper Stadium, and caught the
performance of some totally washed-up band from the 70s after the game.
You beam with pride that we're the hometown of Wendy's, White Castle,
Cooker, Rax, Bob Evans & Donatos. but you wonder why we're the 8th fattest
city in
America.
You go to the Memorial at Muirfield just to see and be seen. and you've
been rained on there at least once.
You're hedging your bets with your season-passes to the Crew, knowing full
well the league might fold because soccer will never be a popular as REAL
FOOTBALL!
You know that there was actually a city full of people here before
AmeriFlora '92.
You skipped AmeriFlora '92, saying, "how the hell does a big flower show
pertain to Columbus' voyage?"
You remember how exciting City Hall used to be in the days of Buck
Rinehart. So what happened?
You remember the 1986 sinkhole on West Broad St. that grabbed national
headlines by swallowing a brand-new Mercedes.
You spend at least 4 hours a day in traffic driving through orange-barrel
hell.
You always cheer for the Buckeyes, even if you have no affiliation with
the University at all, 'cuz it's the thing to do, Man!
You know how to pronounce "Scioto" and "Olentangy."
You prefer your pizza crosshatched into a thousand little squares or other
odd-shaped pieces, because the traditional pie-cut is just too ordinary.
You see nothing unusual about a street being called East North Broadway.
You can describe the subtle socioeconomic differences among Bexley (old
money), Powell (new money), and Upper Arlington (tons of money).
If you live in the suburbs, your backyard was actually a cornfield last
year.
That complex on the corner, with the CVS, Frisch's, Blockbuster's and Big
Bear. that was a cornfield last year, too!
As you lament the loss of all those cornfields, you see the infinite
wisdom of Dublin City Council, who spent over $60,000 on a field of 10'
concrete
corn ears.
You were somewhat relieved to know they were puffing up attendance numbers
for the Ohio State Fair. looks like we don't have the world's biggest
white-trash festival after all!
If someone says "Grove City" or "Groveport" to you, you laugh and think
"Grove-Tucky!"
If they mention "Obetz," you just laugh.
You feel inundated with retail shopping here, yet you still look forward
to joining the Big Leagues of shopping when we finally get our Saks, Lord
&
Taylor's and Nordstrom.
(Guys) You wishfully think all those Victoria's Secret models actually
live here, just because the company's based here.
Even if you never go there, you'll boast about German Village and the
Short North, because they're the city's best defense against the "Cowtown"
stereotype.
There's always that nostalgic part of you that doesn't really mind the
"Cowtown" image.
In 1992, you thought New Albany was the middle of nowhere and you
dismissed it as "Wexley." Now you aspire to move there after your next big
promotion.
You see nothing odd about a city of 35,000 (Westerville) where it's
illegal to sell alcohol.
Driving down Morse Road feels just like driving through a 1960s-time-warp
version of Sawmill.
You remember your first trip to City Center and how cool having a downtown
mall was, even though it looks more suburban than Easton.
Thanks to Mr. Hot Shit's mom for this one
