When I got to the Free Library, the gates were closed, though it is supposed to be open on Saturdays. A sign said it was going to be closed on Monday for a special event, but nothing about Saturday.
Two trim guys in their early fifties or late forties were also looking through the gates. “It looks like a good library,” one of them said.
“It’s a great library,” I told them. It is a great library, a cavernous building with a good collection that is not as threadbare as it was in the 1970s when I started going there; it’s not exactly doing well, though. I did not say that.
They asked me if I was from Philadelphia, and I said yes, and asked them where they were from. One said he was from Indiana, and the other, I think, from Wisconsin. They didn’t look like they were from the Midwest, whatever I mean by that.
They told me they were Dallas fans, and I politely said that was a fraught subject in Philadelphia (but did not say “Dallas sucks,” which is obligatory when the Cowboys are mentioned in Philadelphia), and they chuckled and agreed. No, I was right, they were acting a little odd.
I told them I wasn’t really a football fan; instead, I followed baseball. “Are you going to today’s game?” they asked.
What football fan knows the baseball schedule? I politely said no, but said that I went to the Phillies-Reds game, “Where the pitcher, ah,” I couldn’t remember the pitcher’s name.
“Wheeler?” the guy said. Nah, not from the Midwest.
“Yeah, where he pitched a complete game.”
They asked where they could get some sports souvenirs, like caps or jerseys, and I told them Mitchell and Ness, and told them it was at about 13th and Walnut, which wasn’t close (though I would walk it).
“We could bike there. Where could we rent a bike?” the guy asked.
I pointed to the Citibike rack right there, but added, pointing to the bus stop right there, “You could just take the 33 bus, which goes near there. There’s one coming in eight minutes. They take cash, though I think you can pay with your phone. Or the driver might just wave you on.”
They thanked me, the two trim men who were probably not actually tourists from the Midwest, and I walked away, feeling as if I had just interacted with some kind of secret shopper. Or someone from the suburbs who thought it was funny to deadpan the little old lady.
As I often say, I taught middle school for a long time, so I have learned how not to display a sense of humor when people are messing with you. You can’t win that game with middle schoolers, who always think they’re funnier and smarter than adults, and if you try to win that game with middle schoolers, it turns out sometimes they’re being absolutely serious, and you end up hurting their feelings.
So maybe I helped a couple of trim tourists from the Midwest buy Eagles and Phillies gear at Mitchell & Ness yesterday. In either case, we all won that interaction.