#134 - You're my wonderwall (of traffic control)

At the top of Polish Hill, stuck at the redlight about to cross (Take!) Bigelow, and the two 20 something vaguely broish dudes in the inauspicious civic in front of me start simultaneously crooning 'Wonderwall' by Oasis. Just before the second verse hits they both begin bitching about the length of the redlight in perfect synchronicity. The light turns green, the resume singing, then speed of into the distance.

 

#133 - Ardmore Boulevard

Old yinzers don't know any state road route numbers just long since retired road names, landmarks, and nicknames of roads. And will repeat some combination of the three when trying to explain directions until you understand.

'You got some good pizza aht there on Ardmore Boulevard.'
'where?'
'Ardmore. By where you work. Good pizza!'
'Rt 30?'
'I dont know. Ardmore. Up from Turtle Crick.'
'Vinnie's?'
'Yeah. That's it.'

 

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