May 13, 2015 WCPO
I moved to Cincinnati when I was 16.
I hated everything about it.
I hated the humidity. I hated the weird obsession with ground beef served over spaghetti (I refused to call it chili. Chili has beans and onions and peppers and tomatoes.) I hated that the airport was in a different state and that there are code names for highways that aren’t always on signs but that everyone seems to know. (Is it State Route 562 or the Norwood Lateral?) I didn’t want to like Cincinnati, because it wasn’t Denver. And I was too busy waiting for people to approach me to actually try to reach out to anyone new. So it took me a long time to make friends.