Often referred to as the armpit of America, Scranton is a gray town, peppered with lush trees, an overabundance of bars, churches, and pizza parlors. What makes this barely thriving town so unique is the time-warped mindset of the natives. There are 5 parts, the North Side, which is often ignored, as its residents are nothing to write home about, the South Side, whose heroin supply keeps all the local junkies in check, the East Side, also known as the hillsection, which was once the neighborhood of the rich and fabulous coal breakers, but has since become a melting pot of the minorites, the poor, and the bourgeoisies, and lest we forget, the west side, a wretched place saturated with overzealous christianity and GED-toting scumbags. Green Ridge rounds out the lot as the most appealing section. Green Ridge is nestled away from all the grime, with its sprawling mansions, its top notch schools, and its genetically blessed inhabitants. Now, don't let the appearance of Green Ridge fool you. The worst kind of scumbags hail from this verdant stretch, the rich ones. All in all, Scrantonites can agree on one thing. Sure, the impoverished aren't going to be sitting down to dinner with the wealthy, but that's not to say they wouldn't have a few drinks with them...because remember, in Scranton, there's always a bar nearby a church, as long as you don't mind walking a block.
I'm not from Scranton, I'm from Green Ridge.