But I've been thinking about this (I'm the guy with the one hour commute to Tripod — I listen to lots of books-on-tape and think about this stuff) and I've decided that life up here in the Berkshires isn't so different from life in Brooklyn, where I was living until about nine months ago.

Lemme explain:

CITY	COUNTRY
The subway wakes you each day with the gross aroma of urine.	My car wakes me each day with the gross aroma of pine air-freshener.
Wild Turkey bottles glitter in the sun, in vacant lots along the walk to the subway.	Wild turkeys warm their tail feathers in the sun, in fields along the drive over the mountain.
Parents walk their kids to school to protect them from drug-dealers.	Parents walk their kids to the bus-stop (aka the end of the driveway) to protect them from bears.
Rolling bums is an important source of revenue for the locals.	Rolling hills are an important source of revenue for the locals.
Those weird roasted nuts — no one admits to eating them, yet they're everywhere.	Maple sugar candy — no one admits to eating it, yet it's everywhere.
Rollerbladers freak out the drivers.	Hitchhikers freak out the drivers.
Majestic lions guard the entrance to the New York Public Library.	Majestic lions guard the entrance to the trailer park.

In fact, the only real difference I've noticed is that the White Castle burger joint in my old neighborhood in Brooklyn had bulletproof glass between the employees and the customers. But the Burger King up here looks to be ripe for knocking over, easy...

Your pally,
Chris (5/1/98)