If you could live anywhere else in the country, where would you live? A common question, I’m sure. I’ve often thought about it. In fact, there was a time that I considered the top three choices if I packed my shit and hit the road, setting my stakes in a new city and starting over. Don’t get me wrong, I love living in Chicago, for countless reasons, but you can’t help but to ponder how it would be to do more than visit these destinations. Without a gratuitous amount of research or anything more than a hunch and a feeling, considering a constantly evolving list, there are a half-dozen or so cities that I think I would really enjoy living in. Short list: Charlotte, Jacksonville, Boston, Portland, Atlanta, San Francisco. Something like that. But a conversation came up last night while I was enjoying a delicious Friday’s dinner in Dothan, Alabama (roll tide) in which I claimed, quite confidently, that there might not be any place in the country that I couldn’t live, and be relatively happy with my life.
To address the obvious holes that will be poked: Drastically segregated, severely dangerous, overly foreign languaged, unbearably hot or cold, humblingly sparse, etc, are not being addressed. I understand that ‘any place in the country’ would include all cities and all neighborhoods, along with all non-cities and non-neighborhoods, but let’s just keep this to reasonable considerations.
After spending an hour at a nationally franchised restaurant, thoroughly enjoying eating dinner on the patio while Chicago was getting blitzed with rain/sleet/slow warnings, I took a second to consider if this was a regular occurrence, if these were my friends, my locals, my vehicles, my music, my life. I don’t know if it was some of the Southern Pride, Southern hospitality, or Southern charm, but it struck me that not only could I survive here, but I have half a mind that thinks that I would do more than just that. And the reason I settled on this was not because of the Southern stereotypes, but rather, once I shook off my Chicago prejudice, and don’t you for a second say we don’t have one those of you that live here, and quite simply realized that people are people, and so often, if you break us down and analyze our programming, you’ll find a cluster of common threads. Sure, a few political issues aside, maybe a hygiene disconnection, or an overall sense of style and fashion falling on different pages, but for the most part, I think we forget that, similar to the way I, Robot marvels at the character traits of seemingly lifeless creatures (‘Why is it that when some robots are left in darkness, they will seek out the light? Why is it that when robots are stored in an empty space, they will group together, rather than stand alone?’), that we all have basic needs and trends. That given the circumstances, when placed in new surroundings, in experiences contrary to your customary way of life, that the most simplistic and natural tendencies will seep out of us.
And in case I was the only one naïve enough to think that way, I got more.
Aside from just observing my surroundings, my reason for claiming this mildly heinous prediction in based on my approach to life. With no intentions of sounding pretentious, there’s a large aspect of ‘roll with the punches’ motto that I not only believe in, but try to employ. Take, for example, why I’m currently writing this from a less than desirable motel in Pensacola, FL (and not even remotely close to the water). Got an email asking if I wanted to go to Alabama for a small video project in a week, and before I even tried to figure out my schedule and my work load, I said ‘sure.’ Take, for example, why I need to get to bed promptly after finishing this post. When asked if a 6AM flight back to Chicago would be okay, connecting in Dallas, I didn’t even bat an eye. Take, for example, the acrophobic, aerophobic, thantaphobic, anxiety-ridden passenger seated next to me on the 3-seat wide plane, too small to fit average luggage in the overhead, while flying through a thunderstorm, experiencing turbulence, causing my new acquaintance to flirt with her barf bag, white-knuckle the armrests, and eventually, jerk the headrest of the preceding row while frantically hyper-ventilating. Just take care of her how I could, keep reading my book, maintain calmness while my stomach was trampolining, and worry about the rest once we land. Same goes for if every plane, train, and automobile was grounded and abandoned in the surrounding 50 miles for an indefinite about of time, aka I have to live here, long story short, roll with the punches. That, combined with my eclectic and non-polarizing, across-the-board type interests and preferences, and, well, it’s a comforting thought to believe there are countless locations, scenarios, crowds, events, disasters, miracles, that I could plant myself in, and continue with my life as if it was something I’ve never been without.
Whether or not that’s true, well, that’s a whole other blog.
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