Everybody and their mother (probably including my mother) hates those big neighborhood-specific ads for Virgin Mobile that have been popping up everywhere. In my 'hood, they say:
"Our deepest apologies for indruding without a formal invitation. We know this message might be keeping you from a therapy session or a benefit for one of you many worthy causes. But we wanted you to know that it is you, Upper East Side, Who still promotes culture and refinement in this city. Why, if it weren't for your patronage of the Arts, those scruffy downtown types would have no idea that their crude expressions are actually attempts to render our collective neo political angst. Speaking of lording power over others, cell phone companies that lock you in to long-term contracts? Unacceptable. Plans without contracts? Classsy, like you."
Sure, it's insulting, but if you're as tired of the fratty/snooty amalgam due east of Central Park as I am, it's a refreshingly concise snapshot of a neighborhood that seems to be dying in place, demographically and culturally. Let's try this formula for some of the other places I've lived:
Charles Village, Baltimore, You Rule!
What makes you so special is that you've found a way to allow everyone to have their crabcake and eat it too. Ditzy sorority girls from Central Jersey can come home with scary stories about living so close to black people without actually having to talk to any. CV Artsy-fartsies can enjoy pinnacles of human artistic achievement at the BMA in the morning and then pass the afternoon away watching a naked Japanese man play a cowbell attached to his genetalia at High Zero. Townies can live in a self-identified college neighborhood while still posessing the wherewithal to complain about the minimal noise generated by the 12 percent of the Hopkins student body that does something other than play World of Warcraft on Saturday nights. Before the next time you reach for the phone to call the cops with another noise complaint (and it will be soon, I'm sure), think about switching to Virgin Mobile.
Adams-Morgan, Washington, You Rule!
Let's face it: the rest of D.C. is wound up too tight. After a day of taking orders from self-important potentates of business, media and politics, it's a wonder that Washingtonians (and a hefty side of Marylanders and Virginians) even bother with the formality of a kickball game before rushing headlong up 18th Street for light beer, hair metal and the chance of physical contact with a member of the opposite sex, accidentally or on purpose. But you, Adams-Morgan, know that a little structure and dicipline is good for the future leaders of America. When Saturday comes around, the boss isn't around to crack the whip, so you force thousands of fresh-faced 18-to-25ers to form neat lines in front of bars and clubs and make them wait for an hour before announcing that nobody with sneakers is allowed inside. Like a good dog trainer, you know to reward "sit" and "stay," so by 3 a.m., you've set up your part of town for a freewheeling miasma of vomited falafel, mouth-scalding pizza sold by the acre, and even the occasional (OK, regular) fight to entertain the masses. You serve the rest of the city by saving it from even more trash and disorder, so you deserve to get something back. How about a good cell phone plan?
Dupont Circle, Washington, You Rule!
The West Village can get to be a rowdy mess - that time you went to the New York City Pride Parade in '97, you nearly had your eyes gouged out when a drag queen strung out on PCP lunged at you with a 7-inch heel in her hand. The weather may be a little nicer in the Castro, but that's no reason to wear assless chaps and a studded choker when going to the store for a quart of milk. You've figured out how to do the Gayborhood thing right - anything too flamboyant and the Republican Congressmen you work for would start cracking down (you can't marry or vote, remember). Just stick to refurbishing houses and eating brunch - break out those immature rainbows and stilettos only for the Drag Races and the Parade. A neighborhood of mature people like yours deserves a grown-up cell phone plan.
Streeterville, Chicago, You Rule!
To the untrained eye, McClurg Court is like a boulevard of broken dreams. Bleary-eyed law and medical students trudge up and down the street at all hours, too tied to library and lab to live anywhere else. Middle-aged divorcees try to start anew in one-bedroom apartments in the sky, only to find that the chicks at the Hange Uppe and Rockit don't care that you were into Jethro Tull before they were cool. But yet you serve a noble purpose: taking one for the team that is greater Chicagoland. The City That Works maintains its friendly demeanor precisely because they don't have to deal with the assorted newbies, sad-sacks and snobs that call you home. So buck up, grab yourself a rubbery calzone at Tutto Pronto and call your friend in Bucktown to see what she's up to. May we suggest doing so with a Virgin Mobile phone?
Lakeview, Chicago, You Rule!
Have you lost weight, Lakeview? Seriously, you must have economized on the food budget after Dominick's on Broadway burned down, because you're smoking hot. Whether it's walking your dog by the lake, enjoying a cup of artisanal coffee or getting down at LBC, you are a true NILF. Yet you stay accessable. It's good to know that Lakeview is the kind of neighborhood that will cover up a perfect body in a baggy Cubs uniform to quaff Old Style at a bar that only gets repainted when a Daley isn't mayor. You're perfect, but not intimidating, which is why lots of people want your number. Save some money on those sheepish calls from your admirers by switching to Virgin Mobile.
Hah! I don't know Chicago, but your DC and Ballmer are awesome!
hahaha. you are too funny.