Sooo many stories make me laugh as I remember them today. When we worked during college summers at Wildwood, NJ, there was a hurricane one time. The streets were all flooded and pretty much abandoned. Betty said, Judy, we're going out! It was about 11PM when we always went out because that's when we finished our various waitress jobs. I said You're crazy! Do you know what it's like out there? She insisted it would be fun. We couldn't let down our fans at The Shamrock Club, our favorite bar.
Out we went, picking our way across streets knee-deep in water, laughing the whole time. We got to the club, barged through the door to see maybe 4 other people inside. Nonetheless, all heads turned toward us. Before we could open our mouths, the bartender said, "I know. Two quarter beers"!
Draft beers were 25 cents back then and I worked that whole summer on a doctored I.D. Betty had turned 21 in March but my birthday is in the middle of July. The Shamrock was also the place where every once in a while someone was dragged onto the stage to swallow a live goldfish before a cheering crowd. You got a free beer as a reward. Both Betty and I, at different times, were forced to endure that experience.
Once when she visited me for a Rosemont reunion (we are much older now) she said she didn't want to go home without having eaten a Philly Cheese Steak. I said you shall have one. Eschewing the suburban cheese steak emporiums nearby, I drove her to 9th St. in South Philly to Ginos, home of the much-heralded original cheese steak where cars line up for blocks to put their orders in. It was also the time when Gino himself hung a sign in his window declaring that you must order sandwiches in English. That sign made national news and the day Betty and I were there television cameras were also on site. We were interviewed and appeared on local TV news. I never saw us but many of my friends did.
That same day we took a "Duck" ride. Duck boats were clunky awkward amphibious vehicles that were a big tourist draw in Philadelphia. They are no longer around because there was a fatality in one a number of years ago. But Betty said oh yes, Judy, we have to take ride.
We bought our tickets and got on. We were given these wooden whistles, but instead of whistling, they made loud honking noises, (get it.... ducks?) Real Philadelphians hated them because this funny looking open-air vehicle would rattle down the streets and people walking, shopping, eating outside at cafe tables would get loudly honked at by a bunch of idiots on a duck boat, of which Betty and I were two. Oh, we loved it.
We rode up to a remote patch of dock along the Delaware River. The character conducting the tour (Philadelphia is known for its characters) was spouting off facts about the city that were not accurate (Betty and I snickering the whole time. We could have given a better tour.) We ended up in an industrial part of the riverside and are unceremoniously dumped off a wooden ramp into the muddy brown river. The vehicle, now a boat, takes one circle around the river and climbs back on land. This is how some tourists see my beautiful city. But Betty and I ate the whole thing up, laughing all the way.
So many memories have me laughing through my tears. She was so quick and witty. The last time she was here my husband mentioned during one conversation that I don't care for St. Augustine. Why, Betty wanted to know. I explained that St. Augustine is responsible for the Church's centuries-old attitude towards women, second-class citizens and all that. Joe added, "But that's the way it was back then." Quick as a whip, Betty replied, "Yeh, Judy. We're lucky they let us eat!"
OH, my dear Betty. I'm still laughing and crying. You were such a great part of my life. I will miss you forever.