You Can Take the Boy Out of Michigan ...

How do I know I'll never be a real New Yorker? No, it's not because I will never pronounce the name Linda as "Linder." It has more to do with the fact that I was stumbling coming home in the wee hours from a night on the town recently when I passed what appeared to be the only other person awake at that time. The guy turned out to be the drug dealer who normally operates near Splash, yet for some reason he had relocated to my block. He made his usual pitch -- "Ecstasy? Cocaine? Party favors?" -- to which I replied, "No, thank you."