Pigeontown

There are no pigeons in Pigeontown, the place that's been my home for almost all my teenage years. I lived in several other states up to my teenage years, but this place, named after the passenger pigeons that once frequented these parts is really all I know. It's a place where mostly well to do folks have come to set up homes and start or continue raising families. It's a place that a magazine like MONEY rates as one of the 100 best places to live. It's a place where parents like to raise kids, and kids want to raise hell because it's so fucking boring. It's a place where teenagers are trapped for the most part until driving age, because the closest malls are at least 5 miles away, and even then they might not have a vehicle to get around. So, kids are surrounded in Pigeontown by absurdly big homes, soulless business parks, eerily similar strip malls that pop up every couple of miles filled with your Subways & Quiznos or Dominos & Pizza Huts, and streets not lined with sidewalks. That my friend, is Pigeontown.