TITUSVILLE, N.J.-There are no self-service gas stations. I'm working in a grocery store and checking my e-mail via telnet. It's hot and humid and there are thunderstorms almost every night.
It's summer in New Jersey.
I've lived in the Garden State all my life, in this small town halfway between Trenton and Princeton since I was five.
But it wasn't until I came to the University that I realized I'm a native of the most scorned state in the U.S., the butt of every joke, a place known, seemingly, only for its oil refineries and toll roads. (To answer the question that everyone thinks is so funny: I'm from Turnpike Exit 7A.)
Despite the mocking I've received from many friends and even more acquaintances, I'm still proud to be from Jersey, to live in this bastion of mosquitoes and population density, to navigate its pot-holed streets and pay $1.59 a gallon for gas at its full-service stations.
Of course, there are things I miss about my adopted home in Charlottesville. Nothing here is within walking distance of my house. Most of my friends are far away. Nobody drinks bourbon, and you can't buy beer in the grocery store.
But I'm having a fine time here despite what non-natives claim, and there are several reasons why. In fact, I will go as far to say that there are several reasons why New Jersey may rival Virginia in its greatness.
Everyone touts the University as the place Mr. Jefferson built. While that remains an undisputed truth and proof of Virginia's rich history, I am lucky enough to live in a historic site all my own.
In a moment captured forever on the back of the New Jersey quarter, George Washington crossed the ice-filled Delaware River on Christmas Night in 1776 and marched 10 miles to Trenton, where he proceeded to beat King George's drunken Hessian mercenaries senseless.
All this revolutionary drama transpired only two miles from my house, and every Christmas, it's reenacted in pain-staking detail, complete with many boats, soldiers in period costume, and thousands of freezing spectators. Last year, my father, sister and I basked in the frigid temperatures and massive spectacle.
Keep in mind that if George did not make his famous crossing, there probably would not even be a University to be so snooty about. And we'd all probably still be British subjects.
Historic significance aside, my town is a pretty nice place. Those images people have of Jersey-the gurgling, belching smokestacks and gridlocked interstates - would contrast dramatically with the herd of goats that lives next door and the cow that sometimes wanders into our yard, occasionally letting out a guttural "moo."
But while the whole state is a far cry from barnyard bovine domesticity, it is no polluted dungheap.
Although it may not have the scenic beauty of Fairfax County or other Northern Virginia locales, there's nothing wrong with New Jersey scenery. And I doubt many No.Va. residents have wild turkeys living in their backyard.
New Jersey has also made significant contributions to American culture. Springsteen, anyone? And if The Boss isn't impressive enough, how about Hoboken native Frank Sinatra? Charlottesville can claim Dave Matthews, but we've got Bon Jovi. Are there any television shows as good as "The Sopranos" that take place in the Commonwealth? Nope. Obviously, the Garden State offers some fine creative fodder.
But of course, like all things, this issue is one that can be explained in terms of dollars and cents. For example, there's no sales tax on shoes or clothes or food here. I will never forget the horror I felt the first time I looked at my Harris Teeter receipt and realized the Commonwealth was trying to milk me for every dime I had. As if out-of-state tuition isn't enough. Must James S. Gilmore III levy taxes on my food? Don't my parents pay enough already?
Perhaps Virginia would be able to end these taxes if it did something sensible like build a turnpike.
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