But there’s something about Watonka, they say. Something that pulls us back, the electromagnet that holds all the metal in place. It’s the food, they say, or the chicken wings or the sports teams or the people or the way the air over the Skyway smells like Cheerios on account of the old General Mills Plant.

I grew up in Buffalo, New York, and was a big Bills fan.

They say life's what happens when you're busy making other plans. But sometimes in New York, life is what happens when you're waiting for a table.

My family moved to Buffalo, New York in 1940 where I was raised.

If this fails to convince, I being out my secret weapon, announcing with portentous deliberation that Barbara. Damn. Walters. Does. Not. Drive. Heard of her?
This sort of accusatory conversion of course almost never goes down with native New Yorkers, people who, like Barbara Walters, live in that barbaric third world country that is Manhattan, and thus have yet to hear of newfangled American Advances like automobiles, happiness, and yards.

That's another reason I love New York. Just like that, it can go from bad to cute.