How do you know you’re truly a Bostonian? The ability to relate the story of the Curse of the Bambino (and the way it was reversed two years ago) is one way. Navigating illogical, one-way streets or citing the best restaurants and bars in Dorchester or Jamaica Plain are also tell-tale signs of Bostonhood.
But the true mark of a Bostonian? You know about the Woot Woot Guy.
When I first moved here nearly 20 years ago, I remember walking down the sidewalk on Comm Ave with friends. We were among the many loud, immature B.U. kids screaming about how we scammed the T driver by throwing pennies in the machine instead of correct change (remember those clunky dinosaurs?), or headed over to the old Boston Garden to cheer for our alma mater in The Beanpot. But suddenly, out of nowhere, a booming voice calls out in that rhythmic holler so familiar to any true Bostonian.
Woot, woot, woot….
We nearly fell off the sidewalk to avoid an African American man on a large tricycle, his little American flag waving in the breeze. You know who I’m talking about.
I’m of the camp that says he’s yelling “woot, woot, woot…” Later, I thought he was yelling “whoop, whoop, whoop…” Recently, I learned he’s hollering “move, move, move…”
If you were ever curious, his name is Louie. And he’s got a Facebook group for all his loyal fans.