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From sHannon jOhnsoN, Junior Designer: I don't know how it ever happened... but Troy has grown on me. That's right, I live in Troy, NY — the pit of all evil, and dammit, I like it! OK, I admit it took me two years to get used to it... but I really think it's got its charms. Of course it also has major drawbacks; some of which I have decided to convey to you all — lucky, lucky people. I swear to God that I have never lived anywhere where people were worse drivers than in Troy... which reminds me of a story about Troy and driving. In Troy there are a whole bunch of those lovely one-lane, one-way streets. Unfortunately the ones I have to drive down every day are really wide... which means that people constantly try and pass you if you're not going 100 mph down a residential street. Cool. Whatever. So one morning on my way to Tripod (a relaxing 45 min. drive over a mountain pass) a woman in this little honda civic with a KID in the passenger seat tries to pass me on the right so that she can turn three seconds earlier than if she had just been patient and waited. I guess when you live in Troy there is an unwritten rule that says you can make up all your own traffic laws or something. But anyhow, so the woman tries to pass me, and I decide I'm not going to move over for her to pass me, and she runs out of room and tries to cut in front of me to miss ramming a large delivery truck parked in front of her — and it was either I slammed on my brakes and swerved and let her get the best of me, or I held my ground and rammed into the stupid woman. So what did I do?? Ya, I did. I rammed right into her, and damn did it ever feel good! Since I drive a big heavy American truck type deal, my car barely had a scratch; since she had her little plastic foreign job, her car was all messed up! Yippee!! Of course it was her fault, and for once I actually ENJOYED dialing for the Troy police. Road rage at its best for sure. Oh... another thing that sucks about Troy — the coffee. Where the hell is it? It seems to me that a city of Troy's size should have more than one tiny little storefront that serves decent coffee, don't you think? The scary part is, it took me almost two years to find The Daily Grind... and it's not open on Sunday. What is up with that?? Hello? I mean, if I were a business person running the only long-standing gourmet coffee joint in Troy, I think I would be smart enough to stay open all weekend, and most definitely Sunday morning. Fortunately once I found it, I became friends with the man I call the "Coffee-God," so I get preferential treatment. There's even a picture of my dog, Sebastian, on the bulletin board. He's infamous there... sort of the patron dog of the Daily Grind. Check it out. I live in a working class neighborhood in South Troy, in between the Polish, Hibernian (that's Irish), and Ukranian community centers, and just a few blocks east of what I discovered was this huge jail-like facility. There are also a couple of biker bars within walking distance and my favorite one is named STROKERS. Somebody painted this big eight cylinder engine on the front window. I laugh every time I see it. Last weekend there was a middle-aged biker man stumbling around in front of my window. I went over to close the shade tighter and he was weaving around with this huge 45-long barrel in his left hand trying to figure out how to fit it in his pants inconspicuously, I guess. I hit the deck. Laurie, my partner, called 911. They of course did nothing... but told us to be sure and call back if it happened again. Ya... I'll be sure to do that. Despite the fact that my life flashed before my eyes, it was pretty exciting. I also live next to the South Troy community garden, which is really, really beautiful. Beautiful, that is, until the family down the street comes into the garden early on Sunday morning and screams back and forth to each other from two houses away. Jeez. Ah... Troy... I love you.
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