It was supposed to be a quick stop to catch a game – not just any game – but 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.
I pulled off Interstate 81 on a quest for TV. While neighboring Wilkes-Barre Township has plenty of strip malls and and gigantic parking lots to park 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 Radisson Hotel), I was surprised to see a row of vacant spots with my name emblazoned on it – 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 lovable Michael Scott and his staff went for drinks.
Walking along Spruce and admiring the statue of our Founding Father, 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.”
“Vanessa.” She offered a firm handshake.
“Mucho gusto. More margaritas please.”
The night was still young and there was more of Scranton to see.