But Philly is its own unique beast. Many years ago, I was standing outside a bar in Boston with my buddy Casey. Case asked a guy wearing a skullie cap if he could bum a cigarette. The guy eyed him up and down while blowing smoke out the side of his mouth.
“Where you from?” he asked.
“Here,” Casey said, somewhat uneasily. “Boston.”
“Well,” the guy said, smiling in a twisted way. “I’m from somewhere better than youseee.”
Despite recognizing that he was now an unwilling participant in a rhetorical set-up, Casey played along: "Where?"
“Philly,” our man said, in a challenging proud voice. His eyes had a little bit of crazy in them. He looked like a combination of a wounded animal and Johnny Ringo in Tombstone when he finally decides he’s got to face off against Doc Holliday. He stood staring at Casey for a good 10 seconds, then flicked his cigarette at his feet and walked away.
Just then, the bouncer, who'd been watching this whole thing take place, let out a low whistle and spoke all of the truth.