My childhood memories of Philadelphia are not good. In the 1960s and 1970s, the place had a well-earned reputation as a crime-ridden hellhole.
For suburban kids like me, Philadelphia was the #1 place to stay out of. And so we did.
But, as they say, that was then and this is now. During a late December day trip to the City of Brotherly Love, I didn’t see anything that remotely resembled a crime.
But I did encounter a gang on the Market Street bridge over the Schuylkill River. These homies were dressed in brown and white – and they were masters of the shakedown…
What these feathered guys and gals were after was food. And passersby were only too eager to offer it to them. Well, except for me. I wasn’t carrying any edibles.
So, the gulls just glared at me. Like this gangsta, who doesn’t have to work in an office. Life on the bridge is much more lucrative…
Who says that these gang members don’t know how to strut like the Mummers on New Years Day?
What surprised me about these gulls was their, ahem, limited territory. I was expecting to see huge messes on this statue, which is near the entrance to the Market Street bridge…
Or how about The Porch, a huge sidewalk cafe outside the 30th Street Station? No gull residue there either…
Speaking of 30th Street, no gulls in the boarding area for the SEPTA trains to the western suburbs…
I guess that, if you’re a seagull, business on the Market Street bridge is too good. So, why bother with a train station or a sidewalk cafe?