Eagles fans have been patiently waiting for a season like this since our last Super Bowl run in 2005. Not to jinx anything, but we’ve been killing it this year and it’s all thanks to our Ginger Jesus.
I have been on 76 at 11 PM on a Tuesday and sat in traffic for over an hour before it inexplicably cleared. There is no rush hour, it’s just always backed up for no discernible reason. I guess that’s just what happens when you only build one winding westbound highway out of the city.
What’s better than those narrow roads, steep hills, and blind turns in the winter?
The rest of the country may call them Italian ices, but here in Philly, they’re “water ices” and nothing beats a cup of one from South Philly in the summer.
Philadelphians don’t go to the beach, we go “down the shore,” and we only go to the south Jersey Shore. The north Jersey Shore is for gross New Yorkers.
We love being from the birthplace of America. But we do get tired of the tourist. Those giant tour buses never fail to irritate residents, clogging up the Ben Franklin Parkway, and unloading hordes of confused sightseers onto Market Street.
If you’re one of the minority who didn’t personally go to Penn State, you know at least a dozen people who did and at least three families with generations of Penn State graduates. You also know a 40-year old who still makes the trip to State College for homecoming every year and you’ve attended at least one wedding where the Nittany Lion has made a guest appearance.
As frustrating as it is, residents have to admit that the Philadelphia Parking Authority is on top of things. Over your time limit by 15 seconds? Ticket. Running to your car as your meter expires? Ticket. Parked in a tow zone? Don’t be surprised when there is a tow truck parked next to you, ominously waiting for your time to expire. People are afraid of our sports fans when, really, it’s our Parking Authority that’s ruthless. 