The Rocky Mountain Collegian

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I hate St. Louis.

Seriously, I hate this glorified hamlet, this overgrown backwater. And I have some authority on this subject: I've been the victim of this city's misery for 21 years now. I mean St. Louis itself, and not one of the seemingly endless suburbs that form a ring of bland, middle-class consumer commuter "culture" around the city and chokes what little life is left in a town that began to die when the GIs returned from World War II.

That's a facet of what bothers me about this: The hundreds of tiny fiefdoms that have been loosely knit together to form St. Louis County--the miniscule municipalities that make maps of the metro area look like a crazy patchwork quilt.

Near the beginning of the 20th century the city of St. Louis divorced itself from the county, showing all the forethought of a dodo. Today, we're stuck with the legacy of this retrospectively moronic maneuver--and what a legacy it is!

St. Louis is unable to expand, locked in by the United States' largest mud-filled ditch on one side and distinct counties on the three others.

Our ancestors unwittingly shot themselves (and us) in the foot 80 years ago and doomed St. Louis to be a decaying urban core--if you disagree, head north up Grand Boulevard for a few miles--to legions of bedroom communities.

And oh, those suburbs. Though I'm a city resident (thus filled with the dedication of those devoted to hopeless causes) I've spent a lot of time in the county, as most of my friends and comrades live there (and no self-respecting county dweller with a sense of self-preservation goes into the big bad city).

I'm no anthropologist, but, as a high school history teacher of mine noted, every society has culture--even Affton. Culture like cruising Lindbergh Boulevard with neon license plate holders; culture like the monstrosity of a movie house called Ronnie's and its sea of waist high pre-pubescents wearing clothing and make-up that would make a hooker blush (my friend dubbed these youngsters "prosti-tots"); culture like having every major road and highway within a 50-mile radius of St. Louis clogged with bumper to bumper traffic that makes the opening scene of Office Space look like a documentary. Forgive me if I'm unimpressed.

Not that the city is much better. St. Louis is still one of the most segregated areas in the nation, and racial divisions in this city are evident and powerful, without government statistics and reports.

We're also unhealthy: St. Louis is one of the country's fattest cities (what else should we expect from the town that came up with the idea of taking breaded pasta, deep-frying it and calling it "toasted ravioli"?).

And not only are we fat, we're dangerous, too! This is the crime capital of the United States, a fact that I've had tattooed into my brain, as I've been victimized by both a car theft and armed robbery.

While we're on the subject of criminal, let's talk about the weather. Maybe it's a clich�, but let's face it--the weather here is downright sadistic. I think it's a reflection of the awful climate here that my image of Mother Nature is a dominatrix. It's hard not to get this admittedly disturbing vision when you've spent more than two decades dealing with the capricious whims of St. Louis weather.

The springs are damp and signal not the reblooming of life but the re-emergence of allergies (having them, I assure you St. Louis spring is proper training for hellbound allergy sufferers).

The summers not only bring oppressive heat, but also sticky humidity that normally is associated with bayous. Fall is a brief respite--emphasis on brief--as no one knows how long summer is going to drag on and how quickly winter will subjugate us to months of subfreezing temperatures.

Of course, there's also the old saying about St. Louis weather: "If you don't like it, wait five minutes." An annoying axiom, but accurate. Forecasting weather in St. Louis requires the ability to tolerate being constantly wrong, since no human knows what's going to happen from day to day. There are months in October where we've gone from highs in the 80s to highs in the 30s. Tell me there's not something inherently wrong with that.

So we've got bland suburbia, a crumbling city and crappy weather. But hey, we're one of the top sports towns! My theory? We haven't anything else to be proud of beyond some overrated rappers that make me cringe every time they declare their love for "the 'Lou."

So why did I go to college in St. Louis? Why didn't I leave as soon as I could get out of this two-bit cultural afterthought?

It's simple, really: There's no place like home.

James Malone is a senior studying theatre and communication.

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