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Updated: December 10, 2018 @ 1:11 am
The Times' Joseph S. Pete provides a list of ways to tell that you're indeed a true Regionite.
You know it’s called pop, not soda. Certainly not Coke.
You got stuck behind a train, and then stuck behind another train. Sometimes, it's even the same train.
You know pizza is supposed to be cut in squares, not triangles.
You’re convinced FIPs are the worst drivers in the world.
One of your neighbors celebrates the Fourth of July with fireworks from approximately mid-May through late October.
You’ve argued about whether Porter County, LaPorte County or “South of 30” is really part of the Region.
You’re afraid of driving off the Cline Avenue bridge and falling to your death.
You’ve gone to see a band that was popular 20 years ago at Hammond's Festival of the Lakes.
You go to six Greek Festivals every summer, even though they’re all the same.
You’re strongly opinionated on which place has the best gyros, even though they’re all pretty much the same.
You’ve argued with friends and family about which diner has the best lemon rice soup.
You ask your server for extra lemon slices, and squeeze them in your lemon rice soup.
You go to an ethnic church, and it has a bar in the banquet hall.
You go to a Catholic church, and it has a beer tent and a raffle at every summer festival.
You know there are two seasons: blizzard season and beer tent season.
You know it’s too cold or dangerous to go swimming in Lake Michigan except for maybe 20 days a year.
You don’t think it’s weird to go to a beach right by a steel mill or power plant.
You visit the casino boats occasionally “for the food.” You just call them “the boats.”
You miss the taste of Peerless potato chips.
You’ve gotten stuck behind a train while trying to catch the train into Chicago.
You can do a passable impression of a South Shore Line conductor saying “next stop, Hegewisch.”
You’ve been caught behind a train while on foot.
You know a guy who knows a guy.
You call Southlake Mall the mall. It was never Westfield Southlake Mall.
You’ve seen Alice Cooper or some other '70s rock god at the Star Plaza Theatre.
Your neighborhood sports bar puts a Sox flag out when the Sox are playing, and a Cubs fan out when the Cubs are playing.
Everyone you went to high school with is now suddenly a huge Blackhawks fan.
Your favorite brewery is Three Floyds. Your second favorite brewery is whichever one you live closest to.
You grew up on a steady diet of Chicago television news and believed as a kid the Illinois governor was the governor or your state.
You know as much about Illinois state politics as about Indiana state politics, if not more.
You still call it the Hammond Times.
You claim you live 25 minutes from anywhere in Chicago, including Andersonville and Portage Park.
You would have got there in 25 minutes if you didn’t get caught behind a train or if there wasn’t all that construction on the Borman.
Seriously, why are there so many trains?
And you've wondered why there is always so much construction on the Borman and none on any other highways?
You get angrier than the fire of a thousand suns when you remember Indianapolis hasn’t fixed the Cline Avenue bridge in a decade.
You’ve driven to Illinois on a Sunday to buy booze.
You’ve heard a foreign language, probably from Eastern Europe, spoken in a tavern.
You wish they could bottle that fresh Whiting air.
Someone in your family or social circle has worked in a steel mill, you know terms like “mill car” and “mill scholarship,” and you or your neighbor has a “Proud Union Home” sign.
You break a sweat at work, and made something tangible at the end of the day.
You or someone you know has cashed a check at the mill or a bar.
You’ve asked what time Round the Clock closes.
You follow Region Rat Rants on Twitter. You either fully embrace the Region Rat moniker or wish it would go away.
You’re either on Team Schoops or Team Miner Dunn. You cannot be on both.
You know to save some fries at Miner Dunn, so you can dip them in the orange sherbet.
You know to order the Green River at Schoops because where else can you still get it?
You go to Wisconsin Dells or Harbor Country in Michigan for vacation.
You eat at Redamak’s in New Buffalo at least once every summer.
Either New Buffalo is the furthest you’ve ever ventured into Michigan or you go as far as Mackinac Island or the Henry Ford Museum every single year and know to call the state the mitten.
You’ve eaten frog legs, maybe even two or more plates of all-you-can-eat frog legs. Maybe you even "impressed" your date by making the legs dance like Rockettes.
You remember when Rusty the Railcat was still a pot-bellied “before” picture instead of an annoying “after” one.
You know it’s pierogi, not pierogis, but you don’t know when to stop.
You’ve met Mr. Pierogi.
You are Mr. Pierogi.
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