Ride a Trolley

It was inevitable. No matter my direction, I had to cross her to get to work. She was old, rough, and green, much like the Irish workers she picked up every morning. Every day I was able to slip by her unnoticed, but not this day. There she was, waiting for me. And I had no choice but to step aboard.

Once inside the beast, all of my ill-conceived notions melted away. Wide walkways, roomy seats, and friendly commuters lounged this way and that. The driver even provided everyone with a stack of Metros in the front of the car. Delightful!

Now I'm not sure if it was the large coffee and Acai Berry smoothie I drank upon boarding or just the knowing feeling that every car driving by us wondered who the celebrities were upon this majestic chariot, but I had the giggles. I felt like Stephanie Tanner riding home from school to hang out with her crazy Uncle Joey.

Sadly the trip was short lived, as I exited on Broad & Girard. Before exiting I turned back to face my new found friends and saluted them. We were not regular public transportation riders, huddling in the dank underbelly of the city. No. We were a different breed. A classier breed. A trolley-er breed.

Ride a Trolley, check.