My morning was shot when I noticed that my sister had joined a Facebook group called: “It ain’t a cheese steak unless it’s from Philly.” I had to join of course. The best steak sandwich I’ve had in Vermont (note the careful choice of words) was at a cafe in Poultney. Though nothing like a cheese steak from Pat’s or Geno’s in South Philly, it was a great sandwich.
Of course one group leads to another. So I found this group called: “You know you’re from the Philly burbs when. . .” or something like that. I fit most of the stereotypes as a former resident of the Philly burbs, but these two made me laugh out loud:
“When every year a Philly team makes it close to or to the post season and yet every year you still find your self saying I know how this is gonna end…there’s always next year.” How ’bout them Phillies?
“If you never took a field trip to anywhere other than the Franklin institute, the zoo, the art museum, or the museum of natural science.” Two class trips to the zoo within five years of one another: lame. Though I think they need to add Independence park to that list, as we doubled up on that trip as well.