#22 Giving Bad Directions

Sorry gang! I know it’s been a good while, but I’m finally finished up with the semester.  With that said, many of you probably have relatives coming in for the holidays.  You may want to reconsider how you direct your loved ones to your “Quarterback Santa”-decorated doorstep…

Because many Pittsburghers have lived around the city since birth, they easily travel from one place to another despite the constant construction, surplus of one way streets, and ceaseless traffic jams.  However, Pittsburghers lack the ability to verbally share their navigational skills with anyone in need.  Pittsburghers like giving bad directions.

Pittsburghers never know where they are by name, and thus can’t tell a lost person where to go. They simply are aware that certain streets connect to other streets and eventually they end up “at that place dahn on’a corner.” This is partly due to the fact that Pittsburgh roads all have approximately three different names.  For example: Route 19 can be referred to as West Liberty, Perry Highway, or Washington Road, which intersects and becomes the same road with Route 51, aka Saw Mill Run or Clairton Boulevard.  This confuses Pittsburghers just as much as outsiders.  They don’t bother with streets names.

Pittsburghers like to be spatially oriented.  They can tell someone exactly where to go based on landmarks in the area.  To the dismay of anyone in need of directions, most of the landmarks they are referring to were torn down thirty years ago.

A Pittsburgher might say, “So you go dahn past the old Thrift Drug n’at, cross that one lane bridge, then go like two or three stop lights, take that gradual right, and it’s on your left.  It’s right past where Kaufman’s use to be.”

#21 Fish Sandwiches

Many Pittsburghers are Catholic, which leaves them with annual difficult decision of what to give up for Lent.  The Church suggests that Catholics should go forty days without the one thing they enjoy most, but this puts Pittsburghers in a pickle. See, Pittsburghers love fish sandwiches most, but all the parish fish fries are during Lent due to meatless Fridays. (Catholic Dogma can create some tricky catch-22s.)  This forces Pittsburghers to give up less important things for Lent, like chocolate or paying child support.

Make no mistake, Pittsburghers like fish sandwiches all year round, and not all fish sandwich lovers are Catholic.  In fact, most Pittsburgher fish-sandwich-aficionados only like them because it’s fun to say.  Pittsburghers like pronouncing it fis-samich.

Either way, all Pittsburghers like fish fries—Jew, Gentile, rare Cleveland fan.  Right below gambling carnivals, fish fries are the second most anticipated church event.  Imagine four hundred Pittsburghers sitting on folding chairs, eating low-grade cod on soggy buns atop coleslaw, while getting drunk and playfully harassing waitresses. This is the Pittsburgh church experience. Fish fry is to Pittsburgh as night club is to Miami.  Similarly, Miami and Pittsburgh both have an epidemic amount of elderly people, which explains why fish fries begin serving dinner at 4 pm.

#20 Saving Parking Spots

Most Pittsburghers live on a street that is barely wide enough for the two lanes of opposing traffic to travel on, let alone park their cars on.  Some even have trolley (tralwee) tracks in the middle of their road.  So when a Pittsburgher is presented with space to parallel park his vehicle near his humble abode, he guards that space with his life—or rather, anything he can find.

This practice known as “spot saving” is most common in Pittsburgh areas like Dormont, Beechview, Brookline, and the South Side, where double parking and one way streets entangle around shoulder-to-shoulder residential buildings. Pittsburghers will save their parking spots with just about any ornament that fits the bill.  This may include, but is not limited to, folding chairs, adirondack lounges, parking cones connected with Christmas lights, stolen construction barrels, large potted plants, wooden pallets, or small children (if it’s a quick trip for cigarettes).

When looking for a parking spot in Pittsburgh, do not mistake the cardboard poster that reads “No Parking: violators will be shot” as legitimate municipality signage.  And it is unlikely that violators will experience gun violence, but instead get “hollered at” and possibly smacked with a wooden spoon.

However, it is perfectly acceptable to steal the spot of a Hummer, as its owner certainly does not live in the aforementioned Pittsburgh areas, and should not be driving their Panzer-sized vehicles on narrow streets anyhow.

#19 Witnessing House Fires

House fires are so common in Pittsburgh that if you were to wake up and not see news coverage of an overnight fire, it could only mean two things: One: it was actually your house, and you’ve woken up confused in a hospital, mistaking Full House for the news. Or two: Pittsburgh is underwater from God’s great flood, part duex.  Either way, Pittsburghers like witnessing these house fires because the local news stations need people to interview.

Andy Warhol, probably the most world-famous Pittsburgher, once said, “In the future, everyone will be famous for fifteen minutes.”  This is especially true in Pittsburgh, except everyone is famous for fifteen minutes, then famous again every eleven minutes right after the weekend forecast, up until seven o’clock.

To be an interviewee on the local news is a life goal of the average Pittsburgher.  Being prepared can help accomplish this goal.  If a Pittsburgher is awakened by sirens, it’s too late.  A Pittsburgher looking to boost face time on channel 3 has to have a keen sense of smell in order to beat the neighbors outside.  Pittsburghers like to be first on the scene, but must not be too groggy in order to form a coherent account of the blaze for when the satellite vans arrive.

Also, news stations often refrain from putting atrocious-looking people in front of a camera (though sometimes that’s all the crop has to offer).  A fully closed robe, properly secured wig/weave, sufficient removal of eye-boogers, and especially the usage of undergarments will ensure talk-time with a cube-wielding microphone.     

Truly prepared Pittsburghers will not forget to put a tape in the VCR before going back to bed in order to eternally capture their fifteen minutes on an outdated analog medium.

#18 The Outer Banks

“Wait just a second, now. The Outer Banks aren’t in Pittsburgh.” This is indeed true, but Pittsburghers love the Outer Banks.  There is no hotter vacation spot for Pittsburghers than the cloudy beaches of North Carolina.  Originally, it was thought that the Pittsburgh love affair with these dune beaches began with a quest to obtain oval OBX bumper stickers for the family minivan.  Though this vinyl token is testimony of a vacationer’s boogie boarding skills and extensive boat shoe collection, Pittsburghers make this summer pilgrimage for another core reason.

Pittsburghers love hanging out with other Pittsburghers.  This seems like a no-brainer, especially when put within the confines of tailgating or rib cook-offs, but for a Pittsburgher to run into another Pittsburgher on vacation is a huge deal.  Seeing someone with recognizable Pittsburgh garb hundreds of miles away from home is a rush, and often the leading factor in determining the awesomeness of a vacation.   

Going to the Outer Banks is a sure fire way to see other Pittsburghers outside their natural habitat.  Pittsburghers go there with this certainty of seeing ‘Burgher brethren, yet still remain excited as if seeing them in New Delhi or Rio.  Striking up conversations with other Pittsburghers is as easy as saying “yinz” in a publically audible tone—a universal Pittsburgh pack call.

When arriving at the beach condominium complex, Pittsburgh children often play ‘count the Pennsylvania license plates.’  Roughly 80% of cars will have PA plates, 65% percent of which will have Super Bowl XL stickers.     

Furthermore, Pittsburgh dads are usually forced to take family vacations.  So when a ‘Burgh dad meets another ‘Burgh dad, they have each made a friend for the week—someone to discuss the bathroom remodeling and possibly share season tickets with months down the road.

#17 The 70’s

With the exception of a few skyline adjustments and poorly paved roads, Pittsburgh generally looks the same now as it did in the 1970’s.  There’s one major difference between the ‘Burgh of yesteryear and that of today: the old ‘Burgh was actually an awesome place to live.  This is why Pittsburghers like the 70’s.      

In the 70’s, Pittsburgh was a prosperous Rome, and Three Rivers Stadium was its coliseum.  The Steelers played four Super Bowl winning seasons during the 70’s at Three Rivers, which explains the swarms of crying Pittsburgh men when the stadium was demolished.  This was also the last era in which the Pirates won World Series titles—a feat that today is considered impossible even by the most hopeful fans.

Pittsburghers also like the 70’s because the steel industry was still alive.  This was before the days of mill closures, gigantic layoffs, and rap music (three things that traditional Pittsburghers associate with the downturn of the city).  In the 70’s, Pittsburghers had steady incomes and were able to enjoy excesses of the decade like Zeppelin concerts, Dodge Chargers, and Bolivian marching powder (aka. the Devil’s dandruff).  But all the trophies, pennants, and rings were soon meaningless as Pittsburgh economically burned like Gomorrah.

To this day, Pittsburghers have this deeply spiritual belief that the city will one day (possibly at the end of time) return to its glorified state, and all Pittsburghers, past, present, and future, will return to the promised land—the Garden of Iron.  Some believe that the championship titles of the new millennium fulfill ancient prophecies written on a Terrible Towel which mention events that will usher in prosperity before the New Age of Steel.  Pittsburghers’ liking for the 70’s is merely an adoration of hope.

#16 Taking Prom Pictures at Local Landmarks

Pittsburghers take pictures of everything.  So when Pittsburgh high school students go to the senior prom, their mothers demand photographic documentation of the evening, but only pictures classy enough for grandma’s coffee table will suffice.  Prom pictures taken in front of the backyard birdbath aren’t enough for a Pittsburgh mom.

They instruct their sons to give the limo driver a disposable camera, tip him twenty dollars, and request a full city tour, stopping at recognizable locations for photos before the actual dance. A photo shoot at PPG Plaza, a marginally attractive business area, is a regular limo stop during prom season.  Well trained Pittsburgh sons know that pictures near fountains are sophisticated.  Defiant sons will attempt to take photos in front of Hooters or homeless people in the name of rebellion.

Other tasteful locations include old Gothic-style churches, restored train stations, and the Roberto Clemente statue.  But the most elegant locale for a prom picture is Mt. Washington.  The proudest Pittsburgh mothers all have a framed picture of their child (and date) on a Mt. Washington overlook, with an illuminated downtown Pittsburgh as the backdrop, cascaded by a partly cloudy sunset.  This is the caviar of mantle decorations.

Note: If at a loss for where to go, ask your date.  Many Pittsburgh girls know the photo circuit well because most of them go to senior prom about three times, starting at age 14, as they often date much older boys. There are many 23 year olds at Pittsburgh proms, most of which are online-college students.

#15 Deals

One of Pittsburgh’s great attributes is its anti-aristocratic attitude.  Pittsburghers hate being flashy and chic, which means they like deals.  This strive for a good bargain is not isolated to times of economic hardship, either.  Pittsburghers are just thrifty people.

For instance, Pittsburghers back to school shop at two places: garage sales and Gabe’s.  Gabe’s is the place that Pittsburghers buy all their brand-name, yet irregularly manufactured goods.  Such clothing imperfections may include small holes, snags, large yellow stains, uneven pant legs, pen marks, loose buttons, and missing back pockets.  70% off is the average discount, which isn’t bad for clothes that smell like sauerkraut.

Clothing selection can vary from between Gabe’s locations.  If a Pittsburgher is looking for waterproof work boots, a camouflage hunting jacket, or Git-R-Done t-shirts, he should go to the Washington location.  If a Pittsburgher desires a velour jogging suit, basketball jersey, or XXL white t-shirts, he should visit the West Mifflin location.    

Pittsburghers complete their furniture shopping at garage sales.  Before Pittsburghers put their old furniture in the trash to be stolen, they try and sell it at a garage sale.  More times than not, multiple households on a street will have garage sales on the same day to attract more shoppers to their one-stop bargain hunt.  If hosting a garage sale in Pittsburgh, be sure to take note of your prices on big ticket items like couches and desks.  Pittsburghers will usually skip haggling, and quietly swap price tags.    

At flea markets, Pittsburghers are like gypsies, offering a much larger selection of goods than the average garage sale.  A Pittsburgh flea market is the only place where one can purchase a Dale Earnhardt Christmas tree ornament, ninja stars, a paintball gun, a bootleg Batman DVD, and a soft pretzel for less than forty bucks.

#14 Doe Season

Pittsburghers like killing things.  If a Pittsburgher lives in Oakland, this hobby might be applied to fellow Pittsburghers, but residence beyond the inner city limits guarantees a love for hunting animals.  The statewide antlerless deer hunting season is only a few days long, so the first day of the kill-fest is always a huge deal in Pittsburgh.

The first day of doe season turns Pittsburgh into (more of) a ghost town.  High school teachers with pent up anger abandon their students.  Independent gas stations remain closed.  There’s no group of construction workers to stand around the side of the highway and stare at the single person actually working.  But there are reasons for this non-official holiday.

Pittsburgh is overpopulated with two things: old people and deer.  Since Kevorkian-style hunts were outlawed in 1974, putting the remaining nuisances in geriatric penitentiaries, Pittsburghers now have to hunt deer in the name of cleaning the streets.  The only thing that rivals the number of potholes on Pittsburgh roads is dead deer.  Whether one deer, two deer, big deer, small deer, they’re almost always reduced to smeared deer.

Sustenance living is another reason for the Pittsburgh doe season.  Pittsburghers like their jerky and back straps, and will not likely survive the harsh Pennsylvanian winter without this meat.  Sure, each hunter is limited to one doe per season, but mixed with cases of beer, bulk potato chips, and dozens of frozen nun pierogies, a Pittsburgher can live in his game room, plasma screen close by, just like a real, hide-covered mountain man.

#13 Mook

Around the turn of the millennium, Pittsburghers needed a hero.  Y2K was rapidly approaching and the Steelers were having themselves a losing season.  Times were tough and Pittsburgh needed someone to admire.  And there’s no one a Pittsburgher admires more than someone who has an equal appetite for destruction.  For this reason, Pittsburghers like Mook.

Mook was a vigilante.  Well not really, he was just a graffiti artist, but Pittsburghers commended his audacity.  He became the underdog that every Pittsburgher rooted for. (Kordell Stewart who?)  For over three years, Mook spray painted his tag around the city, but went beyond back-alley walls and stop signs.  He hit several overpasses and bridges, most notably the very top of the 10^th Street Bridge, some seventy feet off the ground.  He was like a Pittsburgh Spiderman, slinging paint, not webs, and instead of saving damsels, he ruined shit.

Pittsburgh folklore has it that Mook found the van belonging to the vandalism clean-up group “Graffiti Busters” and waited for the volunteers to take a break.  Mook snuck up and burnt his tag into the windshield with acid.  Mook was bold, and was a great choice for the vicarious living styles of many Pittsburghers.

Sadly, Mook was eventually apprehended by police (from incriminating spray paint receipts).  It’s commonplace to hear a Pittsburgher to say, “I know exactly where I was when Mook got caught.”  To Pittsburghers, it was truly the day that the music died…

So bye, bye, this here can-a-paint guy.  Tagged that Chevy thick and heavy, and then let the paint dry.