A brief anthropological study

I link the following article as a great example of unwitting self-parody: "We left New York City to buy a home in a Maryland beach town. After a few months, we realized we'd made a mistake." Behold the fate of these two young(ish) hipsters.

Quick background info: a married couple who had been living and working in New York City for more than a decade finally found the pace too "exhausting", and increasingly expensive. They decided to buy a house in a small beach town in Maryland, where the woman's mother lives. At first, everything was fine:

When we closed on the house in August 2024, everything felt idyllic. We were 10 minutes from the beach and surrounded by bustling restaurants, nonstop outdoor events, and concerts in the park.

Hey, living in the vicinity of "concerts in the park" and "nonstop outdoor events" sounds a little noisy to me - and, again I ask, does anybody make their own meals at home anymore? - Well, whatever floats your boat.

But then things really got creepy:

By mid-September, though, things began to shift. My favorite taco spot told me they'd be closing soon for the season — the first of many local businesses that we learned would be shuttering or limiting their hours for the colder months. 

By October, the crowds on the boardwalk started to dwindle, and when November arrived, it felt like we were the only people left in our neighborhood. Sure, there were other full-time residents, but in our experience, it seemed like they were mostly retired and kept to themselves.

Wow! So, beach towns, geared toward summer tourism, tend to shut down in the off-season. Who knew? And all this peace and quiet, and locals who mind their own business; man, it's like living next to a graveyard. Spooky, daddy-o! All of these changes caused our now-not-so-happy couple to reach back in their memories and recall the true greatness of city living, the glorious cultural aspects of the urban environment that make life worthwhile:

Even though we had a beautiful house, we missed the spontaneity and buzz of city life — overhearing juicy conversations at coffee shops, stumbling into art gallery openings, booking tickets to last-minute off-Broadway shows, and the endless options for incredible food.

I guess eavesdropping at Dick's House of Crabs doesn't hold a candle to listening in on your fellow caffeine addicts at the Patisserie Vanessa. And, of course, there is the flashing of the faux-sophisticate's customary gang signs: the obligatory nod to the existence of art galleries and off-Broadway shows, and the remembrance of "incredible food" (prepared by others, naturally; I don't believe these two could boil water at gun point). Oh, and btw: do these people ever actually work?

So, how do these two geniuses plan to fix this problem? "We'd like to move to Philadelphia next".

Okeydoke. If you don't get mugged on your way to see the Liberty Bell, enjoy your Jamaica mocha latte at Café Tolia.