BY JOEY SWEENEY

I am not the type of Philadelphian who will wait in line for brunch or any derivation thereof; I will not wait for eggs, or a Bloody Mary, and certainly not a bagel. In short, I am not a New Philadelphian. This is the dividing line between us, New People and Old People: The sense of self one must lack to have your name taken down on a list when it is time to eat the first meal of the day. I'd sooner shit into a tuba, and really, why would I do that? Why would anyone?

All of this is not to further establish my incoherent fear that Philadelphia is part of the wave of all major American cities becoming stand-ins for one another — this is, in fact, happening, but what the hell can we do? — but to offer an olive branch: It is possible, New Philadelphia, that Old Philadelphia can often just read you wrong. 

Exhibit A: It took a whole internet wormhole to realize that there was something more to Philly Style Bagels than the breathless hype, the earnest vibe and the lines around the block. (For bagels. In Fishtown.) Because last night, when the wormhole up and showed me the above clip — produced over a year ago when Philly Style Bagels was just a pop-up with a dream — it put so much into perspective for me. To wit:

1. How can you not love a group of people so bedeviled by their quest for the perfect bagel that, when it is time for them to market themselves, what they come up with is basically a Ghost Bagel with a funky stroll, following them all over town, haunting their waking hours and their dreams alike? (Guys, just thank your lucky stars you're not in California.)

2. In the above act of radical honesty, who among us cannot also see themselves?

3. I had a note here about how the Ghost Bagel is awesome and how I'd like for him to come over and listen to the Jerry Garcia Band with me, but upon further reflection... actually, yes, that.

Look. I don't even really care about these guys' bagels, even if they are (and I'm told that they are) very good. I'm still not waiting in line, in Fishtown, for bagels. Ever. But I think there's something more important for you take away from all of this:

Ghost Bagel, I think I love you. I'm ready to make it work.