Philadelphia was rated the rudest.
Who knows? Could be, I guess. Philly has always had this reputation. It’s the city where they once booed Santa Claus, and my dad claimed that they booed him for “only” hitting a ground-rule double when he was playing for the legendary Philadelphia Cheesesteaks. Of course, if you are familiar with my dad’s stories from reading this blog over the years, you’ll know that almost nothing he ever said in his life was true or even close to it, so there is no reason to expect an exception here, but that Santa thing is true, more or less.
Note to those unfamiliar with the Danny Sparrow stories:
I was fortunate enough to have the greatest big brother any man ever had. What made it complicated is that he was actually my dad, a fun-lovin’, tale-tellin’, incredibly entertaining man who was on the one hand totally irresponsible, but on the other hand, and for pretty much the same reasons, always fun to be with. I gave a more serious explanation of my complicated relationship with my dad in my review of Big Fish, a movie which felt like a Danny Sparrow biopic.
Don’t forget, Philly is also where the hitchhiking robot met its end after safely traversing Germany, Canada and the Netherlands.
I grew up in the Bronx, but went to college in Albany, NY. I had a friend who was from upstate NY and we decided to go to a Mets game. As he was the one with a car, he drove. This was back in the 1980s when the Mets brought huge crowds to Shea and it was often an adventure getting out of the parking lot. My friend lowered his window and stuck his left arm out with his middle finger extended. He then began hitting the horn with his right hand while screaming obscenities out the window. “What are you doing?” I asked him. He replied “This is how they drive in NYC.” Being from NYC, I knew this wasn’t true (or at least it was uncommon). But it made me wonder how much of NYC’s reputation for rude drivers was because of out of town drivers that thought that was how you were supposed to drive in NYC.