When I was a teenager, being hospitalized for mental illness was a big joke. The local facility was located on a street called Wayne Ave.
Wayne Ave., despite whatever else was located there (a pizza restaurant, I think), was shorthand for “crazy.” (This was no doubt an annoyance to people who actually lived on Wayne Ave., of which there were many.
Now the former mental facility is a hospice.) I knew by then that I was mentally unbalanced, but it never occurred to me that I would end up in Wayne Ave.
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