“If it’s too much for ya here, then you should move!” – Robin Harris

It never ceases to amaze me how many people move to my hometown and then complain about how slow things are here, how it’s too hot, or how much their northern city is better than Atlanta. If it’s so much better up in New York or Chicago, then why are you here? Why subject yourself to the blazing summer heat, the blatant, but polite racism, and the slow pace of Atlanta? Is it because you can actually afford to live in a house with closets bigger than some New York apartments? Perhaps you would have had to wait another 10 years to get the same job with comparable pay? Whatever it is, be happy that someone had the foresight to open that business here so that YOU could have a job in my fair city.

Atlanta is probably the best thing that has ever happened to 90% of the transplants here, and all you can do is complain about how much the weather in New York is much more pleasant, or there’s more to do in Philly. Perhaps you would have known about REAL life in the ATL if you hadn’t made your decision to move here based on a weekend trip that consisted of a night out at Puffy’s Restaurant (a transplant), dancing at one of the local clubs (probably 112 since it keeps New York-esque hours) and whatever else you did during your visit… “Remember, what happens in Atlanta STAYS in Atlanta *wink wink*”

Try doing your homework about the city and finding out about the political scene beyond what time can you still buy liquor and make an informed decision about any place where you want to lay your head for more than a weekend. If you came here for college, then you’ve had plenty of time and really have nothing to complain about – you've had your chance to go several times over. It’s great to reminisce about the good old days while you were living in a 10X10 box and eating Ramen noodles, but personally, I prefer to think about my trips to the candy lady down the street from my house. Running through someone’s yard… Reading a book while laying up in the tree in my grandmother’s yard. Call it country all you want, but it worked for me, and I didn’t have a problem adjusting to life in the Big Apple or anywhere else. I missed home, but I made the best of the situation and never rubbed my disgust for those cities in the faces of those that dwelled there. Perhaps it’s the polite southerner in me.

So next time you want to compare New York or Chicago or Los Angeles to Atlanta, do us all a favor and keep your damn opinion to yourself. You never know when you’re going to run into someone that subscribes to André 3000 and Big Boi’s anthem, “Talk bad about the A-Town, and I’ll bust you in ya f%#*in mouth!”

And before I forget, Welcome to Atlanta.