"Why do you say provincial?" I asked.
"Because you can't pick up a taxi in the street," he said.
And it is true. I was chagrined at his discovery—not so much because of its truth, however, as because it was the discovery of a New Yorker. I always defend Chicago against New Yorkers, for I love the place, partly for itself and partly because I was born and spent my boyhood there.
I know a great many other ex-Chicagoans who now live in New York, as I do, and I have noticed with amusement that the side we take depends upon the society in which we are. If we are with Chicagoans, we defend New York; if with New Yorkers, we defend Chicago. We are like those people in the circus who stand upon the backs of two horses at once. Only among ourselves do we go in for candor.
The other day I met a man and his wife, transplanted Chicagoans, on the street in New York.
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
"Three years," said the husband.
"Why did you come?"
"For business reasons."
"How do you like the change?"