Here’s How You Know You’re Not In NYC Anymore

I kicked my iPad 2 into wi-fi mode today, the same iPad you may have seen me use on the air as a TV reporter in NYC, and was quickly reminded ‘oh honey NO, you are NOT in NYC anymore.’ I came to visit my parents in a small-horse southern town, complete with a population of roughly 3,500 people. In 3 days, I think I’ve met them all.

The gym here costs $5 a day. They only take cash or checks. Big box TVs hang suspended from the ceiling, and the only way to listen in is by using headphones connected to a radio. Two days in a row, I’m the only one that broke a sweat and actually ran on the treadmill. My mom and I shopped at the local department store and realized, when we got home, that the sales clerk didn’t apply the 15% discount for opening a new credit card. I called, and they apologized, and applied it over the phone. The woman at the bank talked to me and my parents for an extra half hour while helping them open an account. The one restaurant in town closes at 9 pm. But Walmart is open all night.

Do I miss NYC? Yes. But, I’d like to bring a little of this down-home, what’s real-is-real, you-actually-mean-something-in-this-world flavor back home with me.

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