Have a permanent memory of my first and last trip to Lancaster, PA. Back in ‘90, my husband and I were vacationing in Amish country and stopped in Lancaster to have lunch at a small street side café. We had paid for and received our meals when some “older youfs” (looked to be in their 30’s) came into the café and sat down a few tables from us. The first thing they did was yell to my husband, “my good man, how are you”. My husband responded politely, “very well, thanks”. They then said “what about the beyotch with you”, referring to me. This got my husband’s ire. I told him that we had paid for our meals and were going to finish them and then leave. Which we did. Even back at that date, we knew not to go against the odds when numbers forbid it. So far, that’s the first (and I hope last) time I’ve been called a beoytch. I can only imagine what the ensuring years have wrought.
Wow. Just wow.
Lancaster is a no-go zone. It gives me the willies to just drive through. Highest density of surveillance cameras in the US, doesn't do enough.