My, my…
Tsk. Well, to start, there are really three separate regions in New York. We have the City, obviously, which is all anybody ever thinks of when they hear about New York. Unless you’re a rich kid, in which case your family visits the Hamptons or owns a summer home.
Then you get to play around in the North and South forks with the “locals.” I suppose I should mention that these are the people I deal with over the summer, so forgive my bitterness. Being a native of Long Island is a node in itself, I’m sure. If it isn’t, I just might make it one.
Right. So, completing the trifecta is the part of the state that is neither the City or the Island. Namely, the state. This, unfortunately, happens to be the part of the state I know the least about. However, I will write what I can about each of the locales, and everybody feel free to /msg me with more information. So, the city.
~7 million people. Votes heavily democratic, and is resented by the other regions, who tend toward the conservative. There is a growing sentiment here on Long Island that we should seperate from the city and become our own state, so as to avoid spending money on improving the school system and other problems of the city.
And with that, we segue nicely into the Island itself. My place of birth, and home for the (so far) 17 years of my life. We’re divided into 4 counties (From West to East): Kings, Queens, Nassau, and Suffolk. I happen to live in Suffolk County, the most rural of the 4 counties, but we’re urbanizing disturbingly fast, some would say.
I am not one of those people, as I would like my humble little hamlet to have a better record store than Coconuts and some form of electronics store. But that’s another node, which I may or may not actually write. Right then, moving westwardlier, we have Nassau County.
It’s been the site of some major budget problems. And some embarassing PR-problems. And they have a city called Hicksville. Which means I get to tell all my friends that my cousins live in Hicksville, and they get to laugh at me and make inbred jokes. Joy. Connecting the above two counties, yea, and connecting to New York City, and, as long as we’re on the subject, hummer limo rentals to Kings and Queens as well, is the Long Island Expressway.
That’s right, ladies and gentleman, we are home to the single worst-designed highway in the United States. Under constant construction since God-knows-how-long and there’s no end in sight. C’mon, kids, let’s all go for a ride on the BIG LIE! Straightly above, we have the Long Island Sound.
Which I hear is lovely. What I see, though, is crappy, rocky beaches which for some reason need membership fees. To keep out those filthy Mexicans, I suppose. We Lawng-Islanders, we have an accent, you know. And no, it’s not the one that they use on Growing Up Gotti.
But, sir, it is scarily close. I guess if you want to get technical about it, I could make a few generalizations about it. It’s a bit like the Brooklyn accent. But only a bit. Don’t over-do it. Let’s see, final consonants are never, ever aspirated, especially T’s. Don’t you even think about aspirating that T.
The accent is non-rhotic, kinda. Don’t pronounce that R unless you feel like it. Ah sounds go to aw, but only if you feel like it. Water is pronounced here unlike anywhere else, and I do not have the linguistic skills to transpose it to text. Enough of that.
Kings and Queens I have no right to talk about. Even less than I have to talk about the state at large. They are places in between here and the City which exist only to make the ride longer, as far as I can tell. They are there for train-rides and car-trips.
Oh, and a lot of people live there, too. So, on to the state at large. What I know for a fact is this: it’s cold. Really cold. It’s cold, and it has farms. My great Grandma lived way, way up North. And I can actually say “up North” because she lived both North of me and above me.
In some mountainly highlands in the tiny town of Northville, where the elves make toys for Santa and there’s never a day without snow and hot cocoa. Sorry, that was a lie. It is called Northville, though. Hm… I should really add to that.
