Rube

I am, admittedly, a rube (aka yokel, rube, hick, yahoo, hayseed, bumpkin) which by definition suggests a person who is not very intelligent or interested in culture.

I am about to embark on a venture to the East, to the very core of all-things big-city, New York, New York. (Yes, the Sinatra song is now playing on my internal iPod.)

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I am also hearing that old Pace Picante sauce commercial punchline, "New York City!"

So, here's the skinny. I'm pushing 50, yet I've never spent time in NYC. I've spent a week in London, a month in Mexico, weekends in KCMO and traveled to many big cities, but...

NYC is the epitome of all I grew up loathing. When I was a kid, I somehow, somewhere, developed this idea that all East of Wichita (well, more likely even Dodge City) was urban, citified, paved, and generally speaking, bad. Really, 'tis truth. I was under the impression that it was all a bunch of drug dealing prostitution and gangsters (of the urban and Italian strains). I had absolutely no interest in heading East.

I know full-well that all the above is poppycock. I am certain there are good people everywhere, that there is, say, even grass and the occasional tree in NYC. (I wish I had time to go to Central Park.)

Nonetheless, even the more realistic me expects to be lost (which I generally like, but not there!). I expect to be approached by panhandlers (ugh) and prostitutes (well...) and I know I will be "out of my element."

I also know that all such things build character, and I'm so hesitant to go on this venture (all expenses paid, even) that I know I must really be in need of a character builder!