Where am I?

I used to live in southwest Baltimore, in a neighborhood that was just north of the world famous B&O railroad museum…I didn’t know what the neighborhood was called (Hollins Hills is one candidate, though I never heard anyone call it that.).

But some people called it “PIGTOWN.” A neighborhood so named because of its role in the pork trade like 100 years ago. Every year there is a pig race. I know. I could hear it from my window: the notes of Chariots of Fire, a movie most kids wouldn’t know but for some reason I saw in the theater.

I can’t tell you how many times I argued that I didn’t live in Pigtown.

It’s not like I’m vain. I don’t care what the name of the place I live is. I’m not a New Yorker or something, lying about where I live because I actually live in New Jersey. No. I just don’t live in Pigtown.

Then years later, do you know what the city did?

They put up banners on the side of the road that represented Pigtown’s northern border, welcoming people to Pigtown.

Sigh.

Where am I?

Before all that, I lived in Catonsville. Which isn’t really all that different from Arbutus. But for whatever reason, I was happy for that small distinction. Catonsville is not Arbutus. Fight me.

Then I lived in Charles Village. But people told me that wasn’t Charles Village…Yes it is…

No….it can’t be….

Yes. It is the lower part of Charles Village. It’s on the same block as the Ottobar.

Where is the Ottobar?

Oh…that’s in Remington…

Sigh.

Then there was that corner store that set up in Remington, displaying a sign that said Hampden Corner Market.

Oh boy. Don’t get me started about Hampden. It’s the hottest quirkiest little place in town, and I love it. In fact, everybody who moves to Baltimore now says they live in Hampden. Which is actually kind of annoying. But hey, it keeps the masses out of my neighborhood, which is most definitely not Hampden.

Well…maybe it is.