It was supposed to be a quick stop to catch a game – the biggest match in Women’s World Cup to date. USA, the defending World Champs, vs France, the host of the 2019 FIFA World Cup, and it was sure to be epic
I pulled off Interstate 81 on a quest for broadcast TV. While neighboring Wilkes-Barre Township has plenty of strip malls and and gigantic parking lots to fit a big rig, downtown Scranton is comprised of mostly historic buildings and landmarks with only street-side parking adorned with meters.
I found myself exiting I-81 right into the heart of downtown Scranton, flanked by the City Hall and the old county Courthouse. Immediately I was regretting my move.
How could spectator sports out-weigh work requirements? I kicked myself for not getting my priorities straight. As I passed the Steamtown Mall, I approached the old Lackawanna County Train Station (now the Raddison Hotel), I was surprised to see a row of vacant spots – I couldn’t resist.
So I swiftly steered my tractor trailer in between the old, historical building and an elegant black Rolls Royce, with a bouquet of white roses and a “just married” sign — making sure I gave the newlyweds a wide berth.
I walked out to the old, rusty meters and read that the cost to park was reasonable: $1.50 an hour. However, been the size of several large vehicles, I would have to feed three parking meters at once — a reality that I soon dismissed. I’ll just take the risk of a parking violation. If they enforce, there’s no way I’m gonna dodge this one, so why even try, as I unabashedly walked away and towards the action of the enthralling FIFA semi-finals.
Kildare’s was the ideal sports saloon since it was just across the street and within eyeshot of my lingering tractor trailer. It offered outdoor seating and a compact, sunny rooftop veranda and of course it served Guinness on tap. Even better, there was a small and festive watch party cheering for mega-star Megan Rapinoe and the rest of the women’s national team.
The game lived up to its billing and the U.S. edged France 2-1 in a riveting game led by Rapinoe. I chugged my celebratory beer and wolfed down my happy hour apps before the live band kicked in renditions of CCR
Feeling elated with the victory and relieved that I dodged not just one, but three parking tickets, I decided it would be prudent to give this town a once over. After all I would be spending my 10 hour sleeper berth here and I had just downed a couple of cold Black Gold with a decent head of white foam.
I strolled over to the century-old Lackawanna Train Station, the neoclassical brick structure that is now repurposed as a Radisson. The building is dressed in Indiana limestone with a life-size bronze clock, bounded by two impressive eagle statues. I was greeted by marble walls, a mosaic tile floor and a stained-glass barrel-vaulted ceiling several stories high. With its haunted history – there are tales that a ghost who was killed in a car accident regularly comes to visit guests on the sixth floor. No wonder most visiting sports teams who yearn for a good night’s sleep refuse to spend a night here. Wouldn’t bother me – anything would beat a restless night in my cab.
I continued my trek downtown. By all accounts, Scranton is a small town with a big city attitude. With a population of just over 77,000, it is only the sixth largest city in the fifth largest state. But what’s significant about Scranton is its rich legacy as an industrial pioneer. In its heyday, it lead the country in iron, rail and coal. Today tourism has taken over as its chief industry.
Starting with the Scranton brothers who built the largest iron plant in the country, to the development of the railroad which expanded into north to New York and finally to the discovery of coal which brought thousands of immigrants from Eastern Europe, Scranton, for much of the 19th century was an industrial pioneer and manufacturing trailblazer. Situated in between Pittsburgh and New York City, Scranton is blessed to be located in the center of the one of the greatest deposits of anthracite coal in the world.
Today, with the decline of the industrial economy, much of what spurred Scranton’s rich economy has fallen by the wayside. With city hall in financial distress, even the mayor was working on minimum wage. Thankfully, the landmark buildings have withstood the economic downtown with many been restored, sparking a renewed interest in the city’s history. And 15 years ago, NBC selected this small town to be the location of the Emmy-winning mockumentary on office life in the Dunder Miffin Paper Co. If Scranton wasn’t on the map then, it now is with loyal cult-like fans still flocking to Poor Richard’s Pub to see where the affable Michael Scott and his staff went for drinks.
Walking along Spruce and admiring the statue of our Founding Father (both George Washington and Christopher Columbus are memorialized here). I passed the Lackawanna County Courthouse again – a beautiful building flanked by monuments and the Civil War Memorial – so much history to cherish and take-in.
Then, I discovered a quaint, unassuming Tex-Mex offering an all-day special for Margaritas.
After the roasty taste of Guinness, I was ready for the sweet and sour concoction. Without hesitation, I walked in and grabbed the first empty bar stool, next to a couple who was engaged in light conversation. Behind the bar, was a latina with sun-kissed bronze skin and long, silky hair wrapped up in a double ponytail. She strutted towards me with purpose — all 4’10” of her.
“What are you having? Ceviches or bebidas?”
“I’m here for the All Day Special,” I responded. “On the rocks, please.”
“You like salt?”
“Si si, senorita. Can you make it skinny.”
She grabbed a scoop of crushed ice into the shaker and poured a shot of Jose Cuervo like a pro. Then with all the energy she could muster from her tiny frame she vigorously shaked until the outside of the stainless became frosty. She then strained the mixture into a cobalt blue cocktail glass and garnished with lime and a half rim of salt.
I immediately took a large sip. “This is the best thing I’ve had all day.”
She smiled back with her eyes and grabbed a bottle of patron suggestively.
“Absolutely. I’ve been driving hard all day, and would love to sleep softly all night. I’m Chito, by the way. More spice than a Guinness stout.”
“Vanessa.” She offered a firm handshake.
“Mucho gusto. More margaritas please.”
The place was aptly called Tequila – and they served the strongest, smoothest concoction in the state.
Then there was a patron who was seated next to me enjoying his margarita with an extra shot of tequila.
He was watching Bryce Harper come up to bat, but half his attention was elsewhere.
“Wow, Harper,” I said. “Used to be a big fan, until he stiffed my Nats.”
“Oh yeah, he’s gonna regret it. Are you from DC. I love the Nats, as well as the Braves.”
“Really, well I’m originally from Georgia, so I’m a diehard Braves fan.”
“Wow, Braves – I was a huge fan of Chipper and Dave Justice. I’ve collected thousands of cards when I was little.”
“Wow,” I looked approvingly. ” Vanessa, buy this man a beer.”
“So you’re from PA – why not Phillies or NY fan?”
“I love the Mets. Well, I’ll never forget , 1991, I went to Shea Stadium. I was a Huuuuge Darryl Strawberry fan. However, Mark Lemke threw me a ball in warmups and I had 2 favorite teams from that moment on.”
“I’m Dave, by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you. Chito, I’m a trucker from DC. Say, I’m just admiring your tattoo.”
“Glad you do. The Human Rights Commission logo is yellow, but I got it in black to represent everybody. Some people ask why do I have that equality tattoo and I respond if I’m not going to support it and bring awareness to it who is?” The night was still young and there was more of Scranton to see.
Next I would visit Levels on Linden, a nice club with a vibrant atmosphere.
While at the bar taking pictures with my Ricoh Theta, a scantily-clad middle aged lady smiled at me and asked me to sit down. She had large tattoos, adorned with shiny ornaments all over her body and wore a broad smile.
“I’m Sierra,” she said. “I’m a New York transplant, and a true Yankee at heart.”
“Well, I’m a DC transplant. But I love New York, just don’t love the Yankees.”
We hit it off right away and started a nice conversation about this town.
“It’s a college crowd at the bar tonight and the DJ was playing the same old mashup from the 90s,” said Sierra. “Let’s get out of here, shall we.”
We stopped at the Halal Brothers food truck to order Lamb over Rice with a falafel.
“This is where the locals go for late night gyro and rice,” Sierra mentioned.
We continued our evening stroll where Sierra picked up a necklace from a street vendor hawking her ware. I so happened to have a $20 bill handy, and she appreciated my generosity.
In return she gave me a long peck on the cheek which made it more than worth it. So far a cheap date.
“Love this city – it’s got so much energy,” I remarked.
“Well there’s a reason why our nickname is the “Electric City. Electric lights were introduced here in 1880, and soon after the nation’s first streetcars powered only by electricity began operating here.”
“Sweet, and ‘the Office’ and returning Scrantonites have brought back the charm to their small town.”
“Yes, and Poor Richards Pub made famous by ‘the Office’ is just down the road, although it’s a lot smaller than what was portrayed in the set.” Sierra added. “And it’s difficult to find cuz it’s actually inside the South Side bowling alley.”
“Really, Some of the older buildings are worn and decrepit suggesting to me that this was once a sad, dreary place. But the faces of the locals show there’s so much ambition and promise,” I stated.
“Yes, things are changing in Lackawanna. There’s a strong student movement here. Many young people are fighting for human rights. It’s another cultural movement that New Yorkers brought with them from the big city.”
We enjoyed our chat on a brisk, summer night, but soon the booze and libations began taking its toll, and I was starting to wear out. By now, we were close to the Raddison, and I invited Sierra to come aboard my truck.
“So do you have family here?”
“I have two daughters. One lives down the road, and the elder lives in New York City.”
“That’s convenient. Bet you get to see your younger often, and the other is just a couple of hours away.”
“Absolutely, and please don’t ask me about my ex. He’s a pitiful excuse for a man.”
I nodded and smiled and then brushed her hair away from her face as she relaxed on my sleeper.
And as the chatting subsided to a slow whisper, Sierra succumbed to a soft slumber, under the “Electric City” sign, lighting up the Scranton skyline. In the morning, we rose early, surprised that our sleep was peaceful and immaculate. We then strolled over to Abe’s Kosher Delicatessen across the street.
I ordered the corned beef omelet with potatoes and toast with coffee. Sierra wanted bacon and eggs with a side order of grits. But been a true Kosher deli, they didn’t serve pork.
“Turkey…do you serve turkey bacon?” She inquired.
“Anything bacon is a big Jewish taboo,” I stated with a hint of derision.
“Fine, I’ll have the smoked salmon omelet with the potato pancakes,” she stated.
“Glad you enjoyed your first overnighter in a cab,” I added.
“Oh my goodness, your cab is comfy and the gentle movement of the wind and street traffic rocked me like a cradle.”
“That’s great. I can assure you that the truck rides like a feather on the highway or even down country roads.”
“Really, well that will be my next adventure. I’ve always been terrified of trucks, so this could be a positive experience eye-opening experience for me.”
“So glad you’re enlightened. And I’ve learned so much about your adorable hometown.”
“I’m still a New Yorker. And next time you’re going to Long Island, let me know. I would love to visit the beach and visit my daughter. And I would love to do it riding shotgun from your tractor trailer. ”
“You gotta deal. I will definitely be heading to the boroughs soon. But first I have to return to the Boston area to take care of personal matters.”
“Really, Baaston, what the hell is going on up there?”
“I have a pending criminal charge for disturbing the peace,” I responded as I explained to her the entire ordeal in all its utter glory.
Sierra listening intently while finishing off the omelet and pancakes, stopping only for emphasis and to chuckle at the absurdity.
“The manager at Marylous didn’t feel comfortable with you and called 911. That’s textbook harassment. She has to learn that all lives matter, even Asian truckers looking for a place to plug in his laptop,” she smirked.
“Yes, I wished she had been more receptive and talked with me instead of calling the police. I would have gladly left if she had asked me.”
“You have to fight the charges. Even a misdemeanor rap can impact you for the rest of your life. Unless you plan on driving your rig into the sunset.“
I smiled at Sierra blissfully cupping my hands and thanked her for the sage advice. For once I met someone who understood me and someone who could steer me in the right path.
Overall, I had a great time in this eclectic city. Stopped here for a bit to watch the World Cup and made several life-long friends. Dave, Vanessa and now Sierra. Good to know I’ll always have a friend I could rely on. For sure I’ll be back to this magical electric city and I had to introduce Sierra to the art of riding on a big rig.