Why I hate Philly

“Were you born and raised in Philadelphia?”

This sounds like an innocent question, yes?

Yet when I occasionally ask this of people I meet here, they have no clue that I’ve just insulted them.

It’s a little inside joke with myself that makes me giggle inside every single time.

The following is a reader contribution.
It demonstrates yet another instance of how so many people in Philadelphia are unable to live their lives in a way that does not cause problems for other people….

The house I live in comes complete with it’s own off street parking in the form of a driveway. Most would think that a good thing, though I feel cursed.
I am constantly having my own personal “parking wars”, as my own neighbors feel they have the right to park in it in such a manner to render that driveway totally useless to me. In other words we can’t get out.
I am a kidney patient who could need the services of the emergency room at a moments notice. My neighbors think I should have to ask their permission to get out or that I should know every car their friends own so that I can come knock at their door and have it moved.
I have had my front door kicked in and been assaulted to the point of needing and receiving a restraining order and yet they still park there.
I have had police try to intervene and yet they still park there.
I have walked the entire block knocking on doors looking for the owner of a vehicle…and spent entire weekends totally blocked in my own driveway. And that is just my home.

The parking issue with the driveway isn’t just a “drive me insane” type of deal for me anymore. This is going to end up being lethal for me.
I’ve been told “just call an ambulance” if I can’t get out of my driveway and require prompt medical attention, however, the ambulance is NOT going to take me to the ****** County Hospital where all my specialist doctors are located.
A week ago, I had to call the police about the neighbor I have the restraining order against being parked in my driveway (my very worst offender too). Can you imagine the responding officer told me to just go knock at their door and ask them to move it if I have to get out???
Now why would someone suggest having contact with someone you have a restraining order clearly stating that you are to totally avoid having contact with?? So, just what IS the purpose of acquiring a restraining order?? I walk the streets all the time wondering if it’s just me…

There are no express lanes at one of my local Philadelphia supermarkets. This store carries my favorite type of brownie mix and the big bags of Pupperonis that my dog inhales, so I’m compelled to make quick trips there frequently. I use the term quick trip to denote my intention in going to the supermarket. It’s never that easy.

You may think the self-checkout lanes would be express. Isn’t the point of the self-checkout machines, to speed people through the store? In most stores there’s a 10 to 15 item limit in these lanes. This establishment does not enforce such rules.

The result? Another exhibition in the splendor of Philadelphia residents.

Imagine a person in line at one of the self-checkout aisles with a cart full of groceries. Look behind that person and notice that the person standing next in line is holding three items.

In Manhattan, in a similar situation, eight out of ten times the person with the big load of groceries will volunteer that the person behind him go ahead in front.

That’s happened to me twice, maybe three times, in the six years I’ve lived in Philadelphia.

Treating others with consideration seems like an alien concept here.

So boo-hoo,  the mean Philadelphia people never give me a go ahead in line at the grocery store like people do in big bad NYC.
But that’s not my only gripe. I suppose this happens everywhere, so to be fair to this city, it doesn’t belong exclusively to you, Philly. I can sum it up in one scream:

If you don’t know how to use the self-checkout machine, DON”T USE IT! Go to the cashier and let them handle the job of swiping the bar code past the scanner that is too difficult for your decrepit pea brain to master!

Never try to squeeze in a quick visit to a supermarket in Philadelphia on a Sunday in the hours before an Eagles game. It’s a madhouse. A free-for-all. Philadelphians in all their glory.

Walking down an aisle, I’m toting a red plastic shopping basket, eager to gather what I need and be on my way out. Near the end of the aisle is a man standing behind a shopping cart. The cart is poised at an angle that blocks the aisle while it’s current owner intently studies different varieties of Campbell’s soup.

When I reach the obstruction, I say “excuse me”.
No reaction from soup man.
“Excuse me” again, a little louder.
Still nothing.

My parents raised me to be polite. So I keep trying, inching a little closer and raising my voice a little louder each time.

I might as well be invisible.

What to do? I can’t reach over and tap him on the shoulder. The angle doesn’t work and I can’t reach. Being a small person, I decide to try to edge my way around the cart. In the process of doing so, I accidentally bump into the cart. It moves a few inches and hits soup man on the hip.

How much velocity can a shopping cart have, when pushed about three inches by a 100 pound woman? It’s certainly not rocketing at bone-shattering speed.

Tell that to soup man. He turns around and finally, lo and behold, he notices me and spews some choice obscenities my way. Judging by the decibel level of his voice, this man is not hard of hearing.

Could he have simply chosen to ignore my repeated attempts to get past? That brings up the thought- what causes a person to want to intentionally cause inconvenience for other people? What motivates the takers in this world?

But I digress.

Once soup man ends his mini-tirade, I say “I said excuse me at least five times and you didn’t move so how long am I supposed to stand here waiting for you before I try to get by?”

At this, he seems to have no answer other than some unintelligible muttering and turns back to his Campbell’s survey.

I stand there a moment longer. This man’s face has been ravaged by time, but more than that, I can see anger ingrained so deeply that it’s become who he is. Soup man has been consomméed by anger.

This reinforces my belief that Philadelphia is a terrible place to live is due, in part, to the general discontent in the lives of those who live here.

It’s a shame.

Today in the supermarket I heard two women behind me mutter something about crack and then they started cackling. What people say to each other is none of my business. I’m merely there doing some grocery shopping. But when these two passed me, they said something else unintelligible and gave me withering looks.

My offense? Being thin.

Each of these lovelies weighed in at around 250 each easily.

I honestly don’t know how much I weigh. Last I looked it was about 105. I’m a size 0. That’s all I need to know.

Please listen, Philadelphia: It’s not a crime to be thin!

For years Philly has been known as one of the fattest cities in the country. It’s not just my opinion. The great majority of people here are overweight or obese. That’s not healthy but still, to each his own. But why the prejudice against people who are not overweight?

For the record, I am not on crack. I don’t starve myself. I simply don’t overeat on a regular basis. That, combined with yoga every day and working out when I get around to it, is all there is to it.

I love chocolate and eat plenty of it in so many different varieties of deliciousness. I don’t eat low-fat anything and never diet. But I also don’t look for the closest available spot in parking lots. As an ex-New Yorker, I don’t mind walking and realize that small things like that make a difference.

In NYC, I didn’t stand out. It’s home to thousands of models, actors, dancers, etc. I lived among them and blended in, not once being the victim of verbal abuse simply because I have elbows instead of dimples in my arm fat. But here in Philly I stick out like a sore thumb.

Of course it’s mostly women who show this hostility towards me. Though many men prefer heavy women, the majority of men here show appreciation for my slim figure. Lord knows I’m not seeking the approval or admiration of anyone. These are just observations.

I assume it’s envy on the part of these Philly women. If so, I say this: When I’m stressed out, my stomach ties in knots and I can’t eat. That, combined with the physical activity I do and simply not overeating, are the reasons I’m thin. So it’s a big mistake to judge a book by it’s cover because you just don’t know what the story is behind that cover.

Someone please tell me what the thrill is to firing off a gun at midnight on New Year’s Eve?

You point a gun in the air and fire. Weeeee! What a great way to celebrate a new year. Where is that sarcasm font anyway?

Before I left New York I had never heard of this custom. Apparently it’s a problem in other cities as well as Philadelphia. My question is simply this: why?

A friend told me the other day that he ran into an acquaintance whose car had been hit by one of the falling bullets.  There was a large dent in the top of the car. He got off easy. People have gotten injured and killed by stray bullets fired by New Years Eve revelers.

Does it make you feel “alive” to fire a gun? Cool, then go to a shooting range. That way no one gets hurt.

What will it take to end this senseless “tradition”? Can’t you find a better way to celebrate? Hug a friend, drink some champagne, play whatever game you want as long as it doesn’t endanger innocent people. Please.