Philadelphia-accent

So here I am yesterday (Monday, June 11, 2007) casually treading up the long sidewalk adjacent to the Canandaigua YMCA basketball gymnasium, or natatorium — whatever.
The entrance is toward the front — the parking-lots, gym, natatorium, etc. are in the back. (And I park in a small shopping-plaza parking-lot far away.)
I realized I was gonna call Linda regarding the fact I had not taken out an orange.
So I stopped, unholstered my cellphone, called up the home-number from memory, and sent the call.
Linda answered — she had not left for the post-office yet.
“I don’t think I took out an orange,” I said.
End of call.
“Them things are the devil’s handiwork,” an older women said, passing me on the sidewalk, pointing to my cellphone.
Well, perhaps I was older than her; I’ve found that people often underestimate how old I actually am. (CUE BLUSTER-KING).
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said. “It frees me from the landline network. I couldn't have made that call without it.”
“Oh, somebody from Philadelphia,” the woman said.
“Is my accent that strong?” I said. “I’ve lived up here in Western New York 45 years. I thought it was almost gone.”
“Yes, strong enough,” she said. “I didn’t actually live in Philly. Allentown.”
“Well, I’m not actually from Philly either; actually south-Jersey,” I said. “But everyone in south-Jersey has the Philadelphia accent.”
“I also have found that the Philadelphia accent goes all the way across Pennsylvania,” I said. “I had a bus-passenger from Pittsburgh, and she had the Philadelphia accent.”
Once I was in the Perkins next to the mighty Daze Inn in Altoony, and a waitress walked up and went through her spiel: (“I’ll be your server; blah-blah-blah......”)
“Oh, say that all again,” I said. “I haven’t heard anyone talk like that in years.”

“Linda” is my wife. Unlike me she is semi-retired. She works part-time at the West Bloomfield post-office — as a relief postmaster.

My loudmouthed macho brother-in-Boston (“the almighty Bluster-King”) excoriates me because I happen to be older than him — by 13 years.

“Daze Inn in Altoony” is the old Days Inn in Altoona, Pennsylvania, the motel we usually stay in when visiting Horseshoe Curve, the BEST railfan spot I have ever been to. That Days Inn is now a Holiday-Inn Express. There is a Perkins restaurant next door.