Why Do I Hate Albany So Much on Sundays?
Every Sunday evening, when I get back into town from camping and traveling out of the town, I have this sense of dread that sets in as soon as I pass either the Twin Bridges coming south from the Northway, or the “Welcome to Albany: Capital of New York State” sign.
I mean, I really shouldn’t so much of an Albany hater. Albany is where I work, it is what pays the bills, buys beer, and all the good camp-eats, puts gas in my pickup truck, and hell, it even paid for the truck. Albany is where I call home at least during weekdays, the rainy weekends, and the cold and miserable winters. But as soon as I can get out of town, I find myself flying down the Adirondack Northway or the Thruway, trying to escape the city as far as I can.
Maybe it’s because I’m really board with Albany. Or because I just associate Albany with work, and the routine of getting up bright and early every morning, getting dressed up, putting on the tie, and hoping on the bus downtown. All for the all-mighty buck.
But I’m inclined to believe their is more truth to my self-loathing of Albany. Cities, like Albany, seem soΒ containingΒ and limiting, with so many people in so little space. They’re really isn’t much room to roam in a city, and things have to be carefully regulated in all ways to minimize conflict and nuisance. There is always traffic and pressure in city — things you never see in the open spaces that 95% of the population never travel to or see.
That city limit sign seems to have a meaning much greater then just a city boundary were business is transacted. It seems to be the limit of freedom, the place where people reside and go to tell other people how to live their lives. I like getting away to small towns and wilderness, and the city life, with all it’s problems and pollution just really seems to suck.