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Imported from Detroit

Adam Llorens | Friday, August 26, 2011

I live in the greatest city in the United States.

As soon as this sentence is read, I suspect metropolitan areas such as New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Atlanta and Miami all sprung up into your head.

Now, while my city does not have the “bright lights, big stage” mentality found in The Big Apple, it does have respectable human beings who are willing and able to assist weary travelers who have found their way through our town.

My baseball team also understands the importance of loyalty and respect, unlike that team in the Bronx that has adopted the “pay as you go” mentality throughout its fabled history.

Unlike The City of Angels, my city cannot claim to be the entertainment capital of the world. However, my city neither holds the title of “plastic surgery capital of the world” nor “largest amounts of conceitedness per person per square mile.”

The Windy City? My town does not try to be a miniature version or a second rate replica of Gotham City, or any other city for that matter.

On top of that, The Second City’s version of a hot dog pales in comparison to my city’s Lafayette Coney Dogs.

Unlike Atlanta, whose hometown cliché rappers range from Lil John to T.I., both of whom rhyme about the same nonsense every record, my city is home to Eminem, a transcending artist whose lyrics come from the heart.

Miami? I am relieved that my town is not symbolized by an atrocious, drug-filled film like “Scarface.”

And unlike The Magic City, the 313 does not contain a university known more for its boosters who provide cars, boats and exotic dancers for its football team.

No, my city does not claim to be any of these places, and quite frankly, is proud of it. My city has had its struggles – I don’t deny it. My city has had a mayor who cared more about lavish trips and exquisite cars than the town he was supposed to be running. My city has one of the highest crime and obesity rates in the country. My city is the symbol for the harsh economic times that have defined a decade.

However, my city has hope. My city has pride. My city has determination. My city has persistence. My city invented an object that transformed the daily habits of people across the world.

At 2648 West Grand Boulevard, my city’s music crossed racial lines and created a sound that was spread to every corner of the globe.

Laugh if you must. Reject at your will. Just take these parting words with you. from.

We’ve seen your appalled faces when you realize that people actually live in the southeast corner of the Mitten.

We’ve been put down throughout history, and somehow, someway, we’ve gotten back up again.

The Motor City. The D. 313. Hockeytown. Motown. Detroit.

Call it what you want.

But please, just respect it.