People romanticize where they live. Particular to this endemic, I think, is Brooklyn; it is not unusual for people to describe something, and end it with “Only in Brooklyn, right?” or “This is the kind of thing that can only happen in Brooklyn.” Like: “A hipster kid in skinny jeans and an American Apparel t-shirt is having sex with a stroller mom in Park Slope, while her husband is over the bridge getting a blow j from a Puerto Rican.* This is the kind of thing that can only happen in Brooklyn.” And … scene.

I mean not to criticize, but rather to express my solidarity. I do the same thing myself. Just now, in fact, I was at the 7-11, and a very old, toothless man was hitting on an an comfortable 20s-ish woman … as they were simultaneously scanning their lottery tickets under that little machine to the right of the gas station counter. They both agreed: They were broke.

So as I was walking home, I thought, wow. That’s the sort of thing that only happens in Chicago. I should go post that on my Tumblr. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized: No. You can see shit like that pretty much anywhere.

Doesn’t make it any less funny, though.

*And the talent manager asks, what do you call that? And the family says … The Aristocrats!