An article in Sunday’s New York Times is about what teenaged Long Islanders do for fun.
Most were from white neighborhoods with safe schools and nice homes in bedroom communities. But this was not their fault. Manhattan was only a 45-minute car or train ride away, but it might as well have been a foreign country. No one spoke of heading in there for an evening.
For the record, the kids they talk about in this article were the ones who liked to throw stuff at me and call me ‘freak’ and alternately decide I was the coolest person in the world and buddy up to me.
This was like a bad flashback with no acid involved.