Louisville: My Home Town

Louisville viewed from southern Indiana across the Ohio River

A colleague emailed me the following. I actually agree with most of them and have decided to share them with you. Maybe they’ll give you an idea of what living in Louisville is like—or maybe they’ll raise some questions.

Being from Louisville means...

Your "International" airport has only one passenger flight that actually leaves the 48 contiguous U.S. states

The in-state sports rivalry is paid more attention to than the national championship.

You live in an area that occasionally gets considerable snowfalls, floods, and tornadoes... but has no capacity to deal with any of the above.

You pronounce the name of your city different than anyone else you've heard.

You think the rest of the people in Kentucky sound like hicks.

When you think "Kentucky" you don't automatically think horse racing or fried chicken.

You ask your doctor for an allergy cure and he tells you to "move."

You've shoveled 10+ inches of snow and worn shorts in the same week.

When people ask what school you went to, they don't mean Vanderbilt, Yale, or Harvard; they mean Ballard, Male, Manual, Trinity or St. X.

You know what the Bambi Walk is.

Your last ten vacations were in Panama City or Destin.

You make an emergency run to Kroger for bread and milk at the first sighting of a snowflake.

You've lived here for years, yet somehow you get hopelessly lost each time you attempt a shortcut through Cherokee Park.

You're convinced turn signals are useless options on a vehicle.

You hold up traffic to let a motorist you don't know into your lane.

You give directions based on landmarks that no longer exist or street names that have changed, but your directions never confuse any of the other Louisvillians.

You have never been to the Derby, but wouldn't miss the Oaks.

You call in sick to attend the Oaks and spot your boss—who also called in sick—at the next betting window.

You think all the REAL hicks live in New Albany.

You think the only thing Southern Indiana is good for is buying pumpkins.

When introduced to another life-long Louisvillian, you spend the first part of the conversation finding out how you are connected. It's never as many as six degrees of separation—usually three will do it.

You think a pervert is someone who would rather have sex than watch basketball.

You've built a shrine to Rick Pitino in your basement.

You can read about Rick Pitino in at least three different sections of your newspaper.

You think the rest of the world knows what Benedictine spread is.

You think the rest of the world knows what a Hot Brown is.

You have never eaten fish that wasn't fried.

You think the whole world puts spaghetti in chili.

You want another bridge built over the Ohio River, just so long as it doesn't cut through YOUR neighborhood.

You've experienced a "salt storm" after a two-inch snowfall.

You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Louisville.