Philly’s unofficial sidewalk buffet: C
There are two architects of Philadelphia’s chicken-bone temple. One has whiskers. The other has hands.
Curious Philly asked why there were so many chicken bones on the streets of our city. Turns out it’s a whole circle of life testament to gross urban living. Rats rip into trash bags, raccoons drag leftovers into the street, and yes, sometimes humans just … drop them.
Somewhere in Philly, a squirrel is dragging a drumstick across a crosswalk like it just led the Mummers Parade down Broad. A raccoon is performing minor surgery on a Hefty bag. And a rat is simply responding to the opportunity. Philadelphia is the eighth-rattiest city in America (which feels relevant here), and twice-weekly trash pickup means an extra day of opportunity. A ripped bag on the curb is an open invitation.
Meanwhile, dog owners are performing full-contact tug-of-war in the middle of the Gayborhood because their shih tzu refuses to give up a chicken bone that is just as likely to choke them to death.
So please, put a tight lid on the trash cans. Until then, the sidewalk wing night continues.
Michael Vick Reparation Park: A
It took 800 episodes for The Simpsons to finally visit Philadelphia.
They covered the obvious beats. Rocky, Wawa, cheesesteaks, the whole “wooder” universe. That’s low-hanging fruit.
But tucked into the background of the episode was a joke that wasn’t obvious, wasn’t tourist-friendly, and absolutely wasn’t generic: a fictional dog park called Michael Vick Reparation Park, “the best dog park in the world.” That’s a deep-cut, morally messy, and very-Philly sports memory.
Vick arrived here after serving prison time for running a dogfighting ring. His signing split the fan base and forced years of uncomfortable conversations about redemption, talent, and how much winning smooths things over. He rebuilt his career in Eagles green. Some fans forgave, while others never did. The tension is the punchline.
It works because it’s The Simpsons. And it lands because this episode wasn’t written by someone skimming Wikipedia. It was written by Christine Nangle, Oxford Circle-raised, Penn-educated, and still passionately Philly. You don’t make that joke unless you remember how complicated that era was.
The episode even found space to include a nod to the late Dan McQuade in the Roots concert scene. Blink and you’d miss it, but it’s a tribute that meant something if you knew.
So the moral of the story is anyone can animate the Liberty Bell. It takes a local to slip in a joke that sharp and trust the audience to understand it.
Bruce in May… indoors?: D
Bruce Springsteen is coming back to Philadelphia in May. May!
As in, windows-open, water-ice-in-hand, skyline-glowing, baseball-season May.
And instead of Citizens Bank Park, where he played two summers ago under actual sky, the “Land of Hope and Dreams” tour is landing at Xfinity Mobile Arena.
Indoors.
This is not anti-arena slander, but May in Philadelphia is outdoor concert weather. It’s built for a ballpark.
The tour includes 19 arena dates and one baseball stadium finale in Washington. Which makes it feel even more criminal that Philly — a city that will scream every word to “Born to Run” — is getting the indoor version.
(We’ll still go, obviously.)
Pothole season officially begins: F
The snow is melting, which means two things in Philadelphia. People are wearing shorts in 42 degrees and the roads are about to betray us.
As the ice pulls back, the damage reveals itself. Broad Street suddenly looks like it survived a minor asteroid shower. A harmless bump from January is now a cavity. That thin crack you ignored all winter? Now you slow down for it instinctively.
You can tell the season has arrived by the driving alone. Traffic doesn’t flow in straight lines anymore, it zigzags. Group texts start circulating with hyper-specific intersection warnings. A single traffic cone materializes in the middle of the street and quietly becomes semi-permanent infrastructure.
Some craters get patched fast. Others linger long enough to earn neighborhood lore. “Turn left at the one that swallowed the Camry.”
Citizens Bank Park without Sam the Popcorn Girl: F
The Phillies will still play. The popcorn will still be sold.
But one of the ballpark’s most recognizable faces won’t be in the aisles for most of the season.
Sam the Popcorn Girl is a minor celebrity at Citizen’s Bank Park, balancing popcorn on her head, popping up on Phanavision, and playfully sparring with Mets fans.
Over the last decade, she’s become an essential part of the atmosphere at the ballpark. Sure, she’s not on the roster, but she was part of the team. And this summer, she’ll be working on a Carnival cruise ship instead.
It’s temporary, and she promises she’ll be back. But this is Philadelphia. We’ve seen how this goes. First it’s a cruise contract. Next thing you know, the bullpen collapses in June.
Remove one of the ballpark’s regulars and suddenly everything feels off, and it’s way too early to be testing the baseball gods.
Booking the Shore before the snow melts: A-
There are still snowbanks clinging to street corners in Philadelphia.
And yet Margate agents are fielding multiple rental calls before lunchtime.
Fourteen weeks from Memorial Day, the Jersey Shore scramble is already underway. Not casually. Urgently.
Last year, people waited, booking shorter stays and trying to read the market. This year, they’re locking in weeks while there’s still salt on the sidewalk.
The Shore has always been a seasonal reset button. But booking it in February (before anyone has even vacuumed the sand out of last year’s trunk) feels like a quiet shift.
After a few summers of sticker shock, people are now less afraid of being priced out then they are of being too late.
Soon we’ll be arguing over beach tags and debating Avalon vs. Sea Isle. Soon someone will be panic-buying Wawa hoagies on the Parkway.
We thought it was still winter. But summer, apparently, starts when the snow is still melting.
