One of my favorite stories about my hometown comes from my friend BrianTurner. BrianTurner is one of those people who is invariably known by his first and last name, pronounced as if it is one word. He says that even when he was a child, adults would refer to him this way: "ask BrianTurner if he would like to stay for dinner." BrianTurner now has a radio show on WFMU, a station known for playing esoteric items such as a live recording of an opera singer having a stroke while performing an aria.
Years ago, when he still lived in Wilkes-Barre, BrianTurner was hit by a car. He was trying to cross the highway between two strip malls, and misjudged how quickly the oncoming traffic was moving. He made his way over to the sidewalk, where a prostitute told him "Son, I saw that whole thing. There was nothing you could do. That man was driving crazy and if you moved out of his way, that other car woulda hit you. Now, I called the police and told them to send an ambulance, but I can't stick around...you understand."
In the ambulance, the paramedics were asking BrianTurner the standard questions to make sure he did not have a concussion. "What's your name?" "BrianTurner." "Where do you work?" "Joe Nardone's Gallery of Sound (a local record chain)." "Oh," said the paramedic, suddenly excited. "Is the new Meatloaf record out yet?" "Yeah, it is. We got it in stock yesterday."
So that's what my hometown is like. It's a magical land where the hookers will call an ambulance for you when you need it and the paramedics test for brain injuries by asking about classic rock records.