There are some things that simply scream Philadelphia.
First and foremost, of course, are the Mummers. Nothing quite says Philly like men in sequins and feathers.
Not everyone is a fan, but no one doubts that the annual strut up Broad Street is one of the city’s icons. Just look at the fallout when the city cut funding for the parade.
New Year’s without Mummers? It would be like a cheesesteak without fried onions.
Today is the Friday before Super Bowl. Which in this area can mean only one thing.
Yes, it’s time for Wing Bowl.
Trying to explain to people outside this region the appeal of obese men wolfing down chicken wings, all the while being cheered on by 20,000 beer-guzzling fans, has its challenges.
It’s a good thing we’ve had 17 years to work on our story.
Started almost two decades ago by WIP Morning Show hosts Al Morganti and Angelo Cataldi, this gluttonous gala now routinely attracts national attention.
The idea was that since our beloved Eagles almost never graced us with a Super Bowl appearance, maybe the city could provide another calling card to usher in what has become one of the biggest party weekends of the year.
Enter Wing Bowl. It’s not for the prudish. The chicken wings are not the only flesh on full display. Each competitor is usually accompanied by a band of Wingettes, scantily clad women. Many of the female fans in attendance have been known to join in the spirit of the occasion, if you catch my drift. The breasts usually give the wings a run for their money.
It is raucous. It is passionate. It is politically incorrect. It is unhealthy. It is often R-rated.
In other words, it is pure Philly.
Count me as a fan.
First and foremost, of course, are the Mummers. Nothing quite says Philly like men in sequins and feathers.
Not everyone is a fan, but no one doubts that the annual strut up Broad Street is one of the city’s icons. Just look at the fallout when the city cut funding for the parade.
New Year’s without Mummers? It would be like a cheesesteak without fried onions.
Today is the Friday before Super Bowl. Which in this area can mean only one thing.
Yes, it’s time for Wing Bowl.
Trying to explain to people outside this region the appeal of obese men wolfing down chicken wings, all the while being cheered on by 20,000 beer-guzzling fans, has its challenges.
It’s a good thing we’ve had 17 years to work on our story.
Started almost two decades ago by WIP Morning Show hosts Al Morganti and Angelo Cataldi, this gluttonous gala now routinely attracts national attention.
The idea was that since our beloved Eagles almost never graced us with a Super Bowl appearance, maybe the city could provide another calling card to usher in what has become one of the biggest party weekends of the year.
Enter Wing Bowl. It’s not for the prudish. The chicken wings are not the only flesh on full display. Each competitor is usually accompanied by a band of Wingettes, scantily clad women. Many of the female fans in attendance have been known to join in the spirit of the occasion, if you catch my drift. The breasts usually give the wings a run for their money.
It is raucous. It is passionate. It is politically incorrect. It is unhealthy. It is often R-rated.
In other words, it is pure Philly.
Count me as a fan.
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