Residents who live near Rittenhouse Square are scandalized. Last week, after a contentious meeting, the zoning board had the nerve to welcome a daycare into the posh neighborhood, according to reports from Billy Penn.
Among neighbors' concerns about the proposed Goddard School franchise hoping to call 22nd and Pine Streets home? Congested traffic, difficulty parking, and—hold onto your pearls, ladies—children laughing and yelling.
Now, it's possible that some residents aren't familiar with the concept of daycare. Neighbors, if you're reading, daycare is where commoners put their children while they work ("work," while we're on it, is the exchange of services for money—total drag).
But it's safe to say that most dissenting neighbors were simply just annoyed at living in the city.
Here's the thing, friends: Life is about trade-offs. You don't get to walk to Vetri and hear the birds chirp. If you want a quiet block with ample parking, the Cherry Hill Olive Garden has a table with your name on it.
But if you want to stick around—and I hope that you do—here are some helpful tips for living in this noisy, congested, wonderful city with the rest of us.
A few years ago, I moved to Deep South Philly, right off Two Street in the heart of Mummers' Country. To say that things get loud is an understatement—my neighbors celebrate everything from New Year's Day to First Holy Communion with a string band and fireworks.
This could be the lifelong city kid in me, but there's actually something soothing about the hum of the hustle and bustle, about the reminder that you're a small part of a big rowdy orchestra.
Try to embrace it—and then get on Amazon and order yourself an economy pack of earplugs. Eagles season is right around the corner, and things are about to get real.
Admittedly, before having my own, I didn't really know the kids in my neighborhood. They seemed fine, but mostly they seemed loud and sticky.
As it turns out though, they're awesome. The kiddos on my block are noisy, yes, but other than that, they're ideal neighbors. They're always happy, they never steal my recycling bucket, and they rarely fight in the street at 2 a.m.—when it comes to the city, you really can't ask for better.
Count your blessings, and maybe go say hello to your new little friends. If nothing else, they're better than us adults.
I'm originally from the Great Northeast, where we prefer a low, incoherent mumble to South Philly's more aggressive shout-talk. I used to find it jarring when my neighbors yelled conversations across the street, but since joining in, I barely notice it.
Try it sometime. Conjure up a big, hearty, in-your-face "Yo!" and see how you feel. It's kind of empowering, right? Maybe even get wild and rattle your jewelry—the noisier you are, the quieter everyone else around here seems.
Now, thinking positive won't help when it comes to noise. Philadelphians quiet down for no one, whether you're Deepak Chopra or Donald Trump.
But when it comes to parking, I've come to believe that we're all part of a delicate karmic dance. If you want a parking spot in the city, you have to become one with the city—daycare traffic and all.
Before leaving my parking spot every morning, I bid it farewell and thank it for its selfless service. On the way home, I recite my parking affirmations: "I will find a spot. I will find a big, beautiful spot. It will not be in a loading zone, it will not be in front of a fire hydrant. I will find a parking spot."
Welcome to the jungle, neighbors. It's not so bad once you get used to it.