Say anything about New York
At some point in time, a mouthy punk thought it would be funny to start calling Philadelphia the sixth borough of New York. Sadly, the nickname stuck.
Being so close to the cultural capital of the world has given Philly a bit of a complex. New York companies pull our talented business people and artists. Even one of our favorite coffee roasters is constantly believed to be a New York institution. It’s a drag that is only made worse by turn-coat Philadelphians who believe the NYC hype and make a practice of name dropping trendy neighborhoods where they plan to spend the weekend.
Go to a sports event wearing the away team’s jersey
Philly is a city united by our sport teams. Actually, Philly is a town united by talking shit while supporting our sports teams. With my own eyes I have seen a grown man call a child a penis for wearing a Tampa Bay Lighting Jersey to a Flyers game.
Wells Fargo Center, Citizens Bank Park, and Lincoln Financial Field are the proverbial thunder domes not just for visiting athletes, but visiting fans. These are the congregation points for a community who considers it their civic duty to berate all outsiders with twice the gusto of the meanest middle school bullies. At the old Veterans Stadium things got so bad the city had to install a jail and court, complete with judge who would hear cases that took place during the games. Philly fans have intentionally puked on children, cheered career-ending injuries, and thrown snowballs at Santa Clause (RIP Frankie, we love you!).
Please, heed my very genuine warning about this: it is a really, really bad idea to go to a sports game in Philly wearing an out-of-town jersey.
Eat at Pat’s or Geno’s
Somehow the entire culinary experience of Philadelphia has been summed up by one greasy sandwich, the Philly cheesesteak. Every person and their mom who comes to visit demands a trip to the venerable Pat’s and Geno’s, two competing sandwich shops claiming to be the best steaks the city has to offer. Fittingly enough, no self-respecting resident of Philly would ever dream of dining at either. City-wide anyone will tell you, their steaks are nowhere close to as good as the ones you can get at the corner stores tourists never walk into.
Work for the Parking Authority
Aside from taking up with ISIS and planting a bomb at the Liberty Bell, there is no way a Philadelphian could more sell out his or her fellow residents than by accepting a job at the Parking Authority. In a city with a chronic pothole problem and grossly underfunded public schools, it’s a slap in the face to see the amount of money and tech that goes into ticketing cars.
If potholes were filled with one-one-thousandth of the efficiency in which cars are ticketed or if the fines everyone seems to regularly pay went to supplies in the public schools, the offense would be forgiven. Sadly, we are just left with Pay-to-Park machines that require a computer science degree to operate and No Parking signs written with all the clarity of the hieroglyphics in King Tut’s burial chamber.
Accidentally drive across the Ben Franklin Bridge
If you’re new to town, it is bound to happen. You’ll be just off Vine headed to South Philly and take the wrong left turn and boom, you’re crossing the bridge into Camden, New Jersey. Recrossing the bridge is an emotional roller coaster. First, the dipping frustration of 20 minutes of life wasted on driving back and forth, second the searing rage of paying the $5 dollar toll after making a U-turn, and finally the elation of being back in Philly and the realization that $5 to get the hell out of New Jersey might actually be the steal of the century.
Say people from Philly are angry
After it is all said and done, people from Philly are not really angry. It’s a misconception that we bask in, but it also pisses us off. What people interpret as Philly being an angry place is actually the sincere passion that burns in this city. Just about everyone here has strong opinions on whatever the conversation may steer toward, regardless of our experience with the subject. When Philly locals sit at a bar, we bond and laugh over our reputation. It is true that middle fingers are as integral to city driving as turn signals, but you have to understand, ‘go fuck yourself’ is simply ‘good day’ in this particular dialect of the english language. You got a problem with that?
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