I am officially a Tucsonian.

I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles today to get an Arizona I.D. I must really be serious about this choice I have made. It actually dawned on me while I was talking to the real hot Hispanic guy that was putting my information into the computer. We were chit-chatting, you know I was being my flirtatious self and I made a remark that I had just moved to Tucson a mere three days ago. However, I had been living in Tijuana for several years.
"You have family out here?" He asked.
"No. I just sold everything and came out here. Through a series of unfortunate adventures. But, I settled here. I rather like it."
He continued to type, "But, no family? You're all alone?"
"Pretty much."
"Man." He smiled. "There's nothing out here."
At that moment, my life for the past few years flashed before my eyes. All the filth and stench of that rotted Mexican city. All the virus-ridden male prostitutes, the vampiric American pedophiles that crossed the border in droves, the strung-out quivering junkies that would sleep in my doorstep, the drug habits, the drinking binges, the Wall of Whores, the crazy madness of the meth freaks and all night orgies, the self-debasement in the stinking porno theaters and grimy bath houses. I looked back with shock at my own corrupted soul. I should be dead!
The words, there's nothing out here, rang in my head. I smiled as I put my old identification back in my wallet. "I know. Brilliant!"
"That's crazy." He beamed at me, with that cute smile, dimples on each side of his black and shiny mustache.
Is it, I thought. Am I crazy? I have lived a strange and crazy life that few had only experienced. And I want to stop. I'm tired of it. I want to have stability, a decent job, money in the bank, a circle of close friends, a nice little apartment.
In other words, Dear Reader, I want to be just like you.