Sources suggest the answer is “1992.” Possibly “Bel-Air.”
Floyd actually did surprisingly well in the city, despite his being (sorry buddy) something of a country mouse. The grid system of the streets (“the numbers go up when you’re going north”) was a revelation that he profited from in very little time.
To be fair I was much the same, if not worse, when I moved in here: Floydster and I are mice from the same country. There is a definite knack to this place, and one that I’m always excited to showcase when the opportunity presents itself. Many locales have an associated pride for the natives, but I’d wager New York City is one of the places in the US where that impulse is most developed. We live in a dirty, noisy, sometimes scary city, but the pride comes from viewing those things not as a hassle but as a tempering process. There’s a smug masochism to it. I’m not sure if it’s home sweet home yet, but I’m getting there. I’m starting to get the jokes. I can tell people whether or not a train stops at a given place.
And I know it’s unacceptable to listen to music on the subway using anything that takes D batteries.