Not My Hometown

That's redundant

I had a revelation this morning. My revelation was that I did not grow up in my hometown. Silly me, all these years I thought I grew up in Jackson NJ just to find out this morning that I must've been somewhere else the whole time.

The reason for all this confusion is that I was confronted in the early hours by a page on facebook entitled "You know you're from Jackson, NJ when.....". I've seen a lot of this going on here and there and thought "oh how fun, who doesn't like a little morning plight wallowing". So I found myself sifting thru the numerous listed things that let's a person, may they not be sure, that they are indeed from Jackson.

It started off alright...

• Six flags is 5 minutes away but its more of a hassle than a convenience
• A cool place to hang out on Friday night was the roller rink
  
• You have to go to other towns to actually go to stores
• You know backwoods trails to get anywhere
  
• You know that to see the Great adventure safari for free, you take Reed road
• You know you are from Jackson when the cigarette infested Mug Rack was a great place for breakfast

I can relate to all those things. But then I read on.

• The confederate flag is seen more than the American flag
• You know you're from Jackson when you drank 40's in the woods at Camp Joy
• Where the road Wright Debow is notorious and everyone knows whats up when you say it
• When you vandelize the hockey rink for peeing on it...
• All kids are either drug addicts or alcoholics. Everyone smokes weed, including your mom
  

Heavens to Betsy! I sure don't remember seeing any confederate flags until I moved to Georgia. Must've been the other side of town. I played soccer at Camp Joy and enjoyed water & orange slices but the moms in charge of refreshments that weekend never brought any 40's. I have no idea what significant turn of events occurred on Wright Debow Road. I don't think that is how you spell the word "vandelize" and I've never been to any hockey rink. And if that last one is true.... Mom... do you have something to tell us?

What sealed the decision that I am not from here was the final line on the page. And it was in all caps so...

JACKSON NJ: WHERE HICKS AND WANNA BE GANGSTAS COME TOGETHER!

Well I'll be. I must say. Either I spent way too much time in my basement bedroom listening to Siamese Dream or I was completely stoned the whole time because I have never met anything even remotely resembling a hick or a gangsta within 100 miles of the place, and trust me I know one when I see one.