I HATE WESTERN MARYLAND

If anyone can provide a reasonable explanation for the continued existence of western Maryland that excludes any proclamation of how rapturously beautiful the Appalachian Mountains are, I will be very impressed indeed and may possibly reconsider reconsidering my absolute loathing for this region of my home state.

Have I ever lived there? Or spent more than two hours there? No, thank the gods. I have had the good fortune (and I say this with only the slightest irony) of having been raised in Baltimore County, in central Maryland. This is the Maryland I know and love, where we delight in seafood and seafarers. Where we indulgently support our terrible sports teams and complain about how terrible Baltimore is and how boring. Where we visit Ocean City in droves, meandering over the Bay Bridge with determined cheer, resolved to enjoy our trip to the beach even if the beach is little more than an overpriced, overcrowded, overrated maze of hotels, motels, Holiday Inns, mini golf courses, Sunsations, and Candy Kitchens. The Maryland I know is all about the Chesapeake Bay.

Western Maryland is all about Mountains. Mountains? Mountains? I do not understand. I am not wholly ignorant; I too find great joy in watching the sun rise in shades of purple and red as you drive through winding mountain roads. I understand the beauty. But even though I understand the basic concept of Mountainous Beauty, I fail to understand why Western Marylanders take so much damn pride in their damnable Allegheny mountains. And before we continue, yes, perhaps I am slightly biased. Perhaps prejudice resides in these words, for I did receive my first speeding ticket while journeying with a very irritated, very full car, through the mountains early in the morning. My car did not appreciate the change in altitude, nor did it support the whole notion of hills and vales, of steep inclines and precarious declines. It was angry with me the whole way, and I suppose as an act of protest decided to first go ten miles under the speed limit for 45 minutes, then sporadically soar above the speed limit when cops were nearby.

And another thing. I object to the standards to which police officers in western Maryland adhere. A speeding ticket for 74 in a 65 is laughable on a highway in Baltimore County, unless the officer happens to be incredibly ill-tempered and bored. They are too busy focusing on the people going 90 miles an hour, or 100. But this officer was downright jovial and pleasant, which confused me. Doesn't he have better things to do? Like catch that SUV who is most definitely exceeding the posted limit more egregiously than I? Clearly, western Marylanders are law-abiding citizens, which makes any sort of minor transgression a big deal. I mean, their law-abidingness is all well and good for them but wreaks havoc on those of us used to greater leniency.

Therefore, it is my humble opinion that we do away with Western Maryland. The mountainous regions of Garrett County, Allegheny County, Washington County, and even the not-so-mountainous Frederick County can all be reassigned to West Virginia. No one needs Cumberland. No one in Maryland needs the Appalachians. We who prefer the coastal region can always go to visit another state should any interest in visiting mountains arise.

Silly, am I? Ignorant? Perhaps. But I am irked that I have to travel two hours out of my way on my busiest of school days to go to traffic court, all because cops in western Maryland have nothing better to do than lurk around corners and hand out ridiculous speeding tickets for going under ten miles over. How silly. How quaint.

Or maybe, I will just never ever go to western Maryland again. Why should I? I am a Chesapeake bay girl. An ocean girl. Mountains hold little joy for me, in comparison to sand and salt water and sun. And crabs. Do they even eat those out in Allegheny county? I shake my head.