In my town, you can go to Wawa in the morning and even the Mexican landscapers are high on heroin. It makes you think you've lived in New Jersey too long when spotting dope addicts is as natural as spotting a pregnant woman in her third trimester.
For those who have lived outside of the tri-state area all of their life, Wawa is the common ground for the common people. At some point in the week, every local resident makes a stop at a Wawa, whether it be for a cup of coffee, a sandwich, a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, a pack of cigarettes, a newspaper, whatever. Need to tap the Mac machine? Wawa. There's one just about every square mile it seems, and there's always a handful of people inside, so it's safe to call Wawa the common pool of New Jersey society.
In that very pool of class mixture, one can get an accurate portrayal of the character of that town, with South Jersey having the most diverse of settings. In one town, you get the aura of the inner city projects, while 10 minutes down one road you enter a farmland of hicks, and 10 minutes down another road you'll find yourself parked between a BMW 325i and a Mercedes SLK. Different worlds separated by invisible lines. There is consistency in the lack of consistency in the sense of class structure, but there is a common theme shared throughout the state. No matter what town you live in, no matter what major city is closest, every town has a deep rooted river of drugs that runs right through it.
Most towns are extremely well at hiding it from out-of-towners, but those who live locally know all about it. High schools all around suffer from the problem of an ignorant youth drinking the date rape drug from a water bottle before homeroom, or mixing their own concoctions of drugs into gel caps and swallowing them as they leave their third period math class. Students passing out during the Pledge of Allegiance are common place in South Jersey whether it appears so from the outside or not.
That is why I stole the title of this piece from a friend who described South Jersey as "the gutter of American society." When observing a house from the street, the gutter system is designed and trimly built to look neat and efficient as well as functional, hiding the grime and incestuous muck that flows through it spilling out into the neatly cut blades of grass surrounding the house. There is no better way to describe it.
To understand the causes of the epidemic decline of the once promising farm land with suburban growth potential, one must experience the struggle of the middle class to grow and prosper and even maintain in a state that costs so much money to live and do business. New Jersey has one of the highest cost of living standards in the nation thanks largely in part to the booming standards of North Jersey and its metropolitan location.
North Jersey is New Jersey. It's as if South Jersey is its own state that is forced to suffocate under the shadowing standards cast down by its Northern sibling. Standards that drive our youth and elders alike to horrifying drug habits used to cloak the discomfort and discontent served on a hopelessly rusted platter. You’re only chance at success comes by way of survival, affability, and procreation.
The American Dream is as dead as dead gets here in the Dirty Jerz, so put that in your pipe and smoke it.
For those who have lived outside of the tri-state area all of their life, Wawa is the common ground for the common people. At some point in the week, every local resident makes a stop at a Wawa, whether it be for a cup of coffee, a sandwich, a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, a pack of cigarettes, a newspaper, whatever. Need to tap the Mac machine? Wawa. There's one just about every square mile it seems, and there's always a handful of people inside, so it's safe to call Wawa the common pool of New Jersey society.
In that very pool of class mixture, one can get an accurate portrayal of the character of that town, with South Jersey having the most diverse of settings. In one town, you get the aura of the inner city projects, while 10 minutes down one road you enter a farmland of hicks, and 10 minutes down another road you'll find yourself parked between a BMW 325i and a Mercedes SLK. Different worlds separated by invisible lines. There is consistency in the lack of consistency in the sense of class structure, but there is a common theme shared throughout the state. No matter what town you live in, no matter what major city is closest, every town has a deep rooted river of drugs that runs right through it.
Most towns are extremely well at hiding it from out-of-towners, but those who live locally know all about it. High schools all around suffer from the problem of an ignorant youth drinking the date rape drug from a water bottle before homeroom, or mixing their own concoctions of drugs into gel caps and swallowing them as they leave their third period math class. Students passing out during the Pledge of Allegiance are common place in South Jersey whether it appears so from the outside or not.
That is why I stole the title of this piece from a friend who described South Jersey as "the gutter of American society." When observing a house from the street, the gutter system is designed and trimly built to look neat and efficient as well as functional, hiding the grime and incestuous muck that flows through it spilling out into the neatly cut blades of grass surrounding the house. There is no better way to describe it.
To understand the causes of the epidemic decline of the once promising farm land with suburban growth potential, one must experience the struggle of the middle class to grow and prosper and even maintain in a state that costs so much money to live and do business. New Jersey has one of the highest cost of living standards in the nation thanks largely in part to the booming standards of North Jersey and its metropolitan location.
North Jersey is New Jersey. It's as if South Jersey is its own state that is forced to suffocate under the shadowing standards cast down by its Northern sibling. Standards that drive our youth and elders alike to horrifying drug habits used to cloak the discomfort and discontent served on a hopelessly rusted platter. You’re only chance at success comes by way of survival, affability, and procreation.
The American Dream is as dead as dead gets here in the Dirty Jerz, so put that in your pipe and smoke it.
1 comment:
All you have to do is go to that website that shows you all the people in your neighborhood with a criminal record and that will prove how fucked up South Jersey is. I've lived in a lot of different towns: Williamstown (where I grew up, specifically in Victory Lakes, which is infamous for the druggies), Pitman (which uses religion to cover up all the sodomites hiding behind the front of a 'dry' town), Glassboro (need I say more?), Sewell, and Clementon (which is so close to Camden you can just smell the dope fiends.) Very articulately written!
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