A couple of years ago I heard a few tracks from a hot young vocalist and liked him.
When I saw he'd be playing a concert with my employer I did a little more homework, bought his new CD and was genuinely enthusiastic in my promotion of the show.
When he arrived in town I found him pleasant, courteous and cooperative. The rehearsal sounded pretty darn good.
By the time the show started, I had already been working for 12 hours that day. The house included friends, family, and business contacts. They would surely love this guy.
His opening number was dead on. I was relaxing for what was sure to be a magnificent evening.
Until he said it...
"I'm glad to be in Buffalo, but how do you people live here?"
In his brief aside about the weather, I saw a polished crooner transform to an impertinent imp in the eyes of most of the audience.
Apparently he didn't get the memo. If you know of anyone who makes their living as a entertainer or comunicator please pass the word.
People who live here can complain about Buffalo, it's a hardwon honor. Outsiders are not allowed. Not ever. And certainly not publically.
No, we are not in denial. It is cold. And it snows. And we complain for at least six months of every year. A transient with car service has not earned that right. It's like Bush complaining to a Mensa group of the rigor of mental exercise.
We carry the weight of driving around with a shovel, salt, de-icer, brush and scraper and bundling up to prevent bodily injury.
We know any activity between November and March can be buried and lost under a deep white blanket.
And just for fun, we happen to have one of the most amazingly bizzare and criminally incompetent local governments going.
We've earned the right to bitch and moan. But if your plane ticket here is round trip -- keep the conversation to safe topics like religion, sex and politics.


Copyright 2004 Judi Griggs