Earlier this summer my husband and I were driving in Northern Michigan. If you've been there you know it's a whole lotta country. I was thinking about how the country freaks me out more than the city. Maybe it's because I've seen too many horror movies about people who wander out into the country only to be chained up in some remote shack somewhere and tortured to death. I mean, in the city people will shoot you for your sneakers or your car or something logical like that. In the country, someone will chop you into pieces just because they can.
I live in an urban area, it's not a big city and it's really not a scary place, in my opinion. We've had our share of robberies (one in the middle of the day on a Sunday - what the fuck is that about) and some random shootings - but overall I feel safer walker in my neighborhood at night than I do wandering the country side during the day. Too much open space gives me the willies.
So I was sharing all this with my husband who started to take offense to my mostly stereotypical observations. I tried to defend myself and we ended getting into a somewhat heated discussion about city versus country life and which one was actually more dangerous. At the height of this debate we suddenly passed a man, sitting in his front yard with a shot gun slung across his lap for no apparent reason. I REST MY CASE.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment