Badimore

Or: How I Learned to Start Worrying and Hate Baltimore

Okay, that was my pathetic attempt at movie-cum-blog post entry title merger thing. Onward, shall we? I apologize - this is a long post.

In the past week I've made 2 trips to Baltimore. On my first trip (to visit Program #1), I left DC/VA at 6am and spent a 70 minute door-to-door trip in which I made a wrong turn on a turnaround, had to park my car because of an accident, and watched the sun rise over faded white dotted lines of the 295 parkway. Beltway, highway, whatever. It was a fairly benign drive, but somehow it irritated me. Maybe it was a foreboding sense of irritation, because: I hated that trip. I hated the program. I felt like I was wasting my time; I wished I had canceled the interview. And at the end of the day, I drove 2 hours back to DC. It was reminiscent of LA traffic, but with yuppier people with poorer driving skills on idiotically designed roads.


However, that day, I got to learn a little about Baltimore - the cost of living, the neighborhoods, the overall happiness of the (richer) residents of the city. I got a little excited; it seemed pretty similar to Pittsburgh, but with a better food scene, and closer proximity to DC. Plenty of people live halfway between DC and Baltimore and do the two-city commute. It's "doable". After our interviews, a friend and I walked to the tourist-area Inner Harbor and had a nice afternoon. I decided to give The (prestigious) Baltimore Program #2 (at which I was interviewing in several days) some serious consideration.


And so I went back! (dun dun dunnn)

This time, I decided to spare myself the torture of the 5am wakeup and 6am drive, followed by an intense day in heels, followed by a 2-hour drive back. Instead, I took the train the night before the interview and booked a hotel room on Hotwire. When I got to the hotel, I called a friend who goes to Prestigious University Med School associated with Program #2, who kindly picked me up and showed me the sights. If I were to judge the city based on what I saw, I would think it was an adorably gentrified city of cute neighborhoods. We walked around a little cobblestoned neighborhood that had a nice strip of shops, restaurants, coffee houses, etc. We drove by some nice condos and row houses, and I spotted a Whole Foods.

But as I talked to my friend, I became increasingly disturbed by what he told me: he wasn't really happy in Baltimore, he wished he had gone to Yale instead, there was some good food but it was expensive restaurant food that wasn't daily far, and - most concerning - the city was extremely dangerous. He said:
"The residents will tell you they're careful and it's safe, but ask them how many times they've had their cars broken into."
"There are places that are fine to live, but if you move here I'll tell you where you definitely shouldn't live."
"I miss Philly and DC."

Later that night, I went to a dinner hosted by a resident, and asked her how she felt about safety. She said it was fine. I asked her if her car had been broken into. She became very uncomfortable and said yes, but wouldn't say how many times. I asked another resident about safety. She said:
"I mean, we don't do silly things. Like, I wouldn't go to the grocery store at 9pm."
"When I'm close to my apartment building, I just call the security guard and ask him to watch me on the cameras as I walk from my car to the building."

I lived in WEST PHILLY and WALKED to the grocery store after 9pm. I was horrified. I met another applicant at the dinner who had gone to Prestigious University of Program #2 for college. She didn't even APPLY to Prestigious University Med School Associated with Program #2 because of safety concerns.

And despite all this, I went back to the hotel to rest up and get excited about my day at Program #2. When I got back to my room, I noticed a HUGE sign on my nightstand labeled "SAFETY TIPS". It had about 12 tips but I only remember a couple. For example:

• If someone knocks on your door and claims to be hotel staff, immediately call the front desk to confirm that someone from the hotel has been sent to your room
• Do not wear jewelry or show cash in public
• Do not allow strangers to see your hotel room key or hotel room number
• Do not invite anyone to your room'

I know that those are standard safety tips, but I've never actually seen this displayed so pointedly at any hotel I've ever been to. And this was a pretty nice hotel in the safe touristy part of town!

So then I turned on the TV, and the story of the night was about a SHOOTING at the hotel the Program #2 had recommended (and negotiated discounted rates) for applicants. No sh*ttin' you. Earlier in the day, a group of people in adjoining rooms were having a birthday party. A few people got in a fight. A man shot another man in the face. The shot man's friends then beat the shooter to a pulp. Shooter and shootee were in critical care at Program #1's hospital. We're talking about a SHERATON, in the nice "safe" downtown area by the hospitals. And I could've been staying at that hotel, if I weren't too cheap to spend $99 (I got my room for $59) - in fact, a lot of the people I'd met at the applicant dinner were staying at that hotel! I thought: This Sh*t Is Bananas.

But I tried to sleep and stay excited about Program #2.

So the following day, I went. And was miserably disappointed. I had no idea why it was so hyped. I can only conclude that it's prestige is what makes it prestigious. I didn't see anything or meet anyone who struck me as phenomenal; I felt very... anticappointed. My 2nd interviewer essentially told me to go to DC, and spent some time telling me what a great program DC is. He said there really isn't any Asian food in Baltimore. He said the 1/2-way DC/Baltimore commute is "doable" but that "doable" is more a euphemism for: so aggravating it makes you want to crawl into the fetal position and cry.

And so I left Baltimore. Goodbye, Baltimore!! Home of the Jimmy McNulty and Stringer Bell (may he rest in peace), Bubbles and Omar Little, the Ravens (may they lose every remaining game in the series), and Cal Ripken Jr (or someone equally baseballerific), and the mayor who spent a bunch of donated gift cards on herself. Setting of Hairspray, and heroine capitol of the nation: goodbye.