Two guys walked into a Wawa in Hatboro at 2 a.m. and left with 96 bananas. Unpaid.

Ninety-six. Not a hoagie. Not beer. Not even, like, a handful of bananas. Ninety-six.

Police described it as a “drunken mistake.” Sure. But that’s not one mistake. That was a mistake made over and over again. At some point you’d think one of them would have said, maybe we don’t need more bananas.

But even within that framework, there are still some questions.

Why bananas? Why that many? What was the plan after leaving the store?

Also, Montco? This feels like a Delco story. You expect this to happen somewhere off MacDade Boulevard.

To their credit, the guys didn’t exactly mastermind this. They didn’t disguise themselves, got identified almost immediately, and ended up just paying the $114 and moving on.

Which honestly makes this less of a crime story and more of a cautionary tale.

Sometimes you go out for a late-night Wawa run. Sometimes you wake up the next day with 96 bananas in your possession.

The giant pile of snow at the Haddonfield PATCO station is finally gone.

For a while there, it felt permanent. Just sitting in the parking lot, getting dirtier, somehow surviving days it had no business surviving.

So naturally, PATCO turned it into a contest. Guess the exact date it disappears, and win a prize.

Five people nailed March 31 and got $20 fare cards, reports NJ.com.

Which is honestly impressive, because predicting when a grimy snow pile will finally give up feels like a mix of weather knowledge and pure guesswork.

Also very on-brand. Give people something weirdly specific and local, and they’ll get invested. Enough to track it, talk about it, and try to win $20 off it.

And now it’s gone.

Until next winter, when we do this all again.

Spring shows up, the trees bloom, and right on cue, the city smells weird.

If you’ve walked outside this week and thought something was off, you’re not imagining it. It’s those white flowering trees.

Every year, they look nice for about five seconds and then you catch a whiff and remember exactly what season it is.

The worst part is you can’t really avoid it. Good weather, longer days, and a faint smell you can’t quite place but definitely don’t like.

Spring in Philly.

The Philadelphia Flyers are back in the playoff mix.

And suddenly, everyone cares again. After years of being … not part of the conversation, they’re now right there, with a real shot at their first postseason since 2020.

You can feel the buzz. The highlights getting passed around. People learning player names again. And look — this is a good thing.

The people who stuck with this team through the rebuild? Through the “just wait a few more years” era? They deserve this.

But you also know what’s coming next: a whole wave of new Flyers fans.

People who didn’t watch in January, who couldn’t name a goalie two months ago, and who are now suddenly locked in.

No gatekeeping, technically. This is how it works here. If a team is good, Philly shows up.

So sure, grab a jersey. Learn the lines. Get invested.

American Airlines will happily sell you a $1,000 trip from Philadelphia to Wilmington.

And it’s not a flight … it’s a bus.

The trip down I-95 you could take yourself. Just … $1,000.

And the reason it’s so expensive: They don’t actually want you to buy it.

The route exists as part of a larger trip — a connector to get you to a real flight. But because of how the system works, it still shows up like a normal ticket. So they price it high enough that no reasonable person would click “purchase.”

However, of course, people are absolutely buying it.

Because it looks like a flight. It’s listed like a flight. And unless you’re paying very close attention, you might not realize your “plane” is about to merge onto 95.

And look, we’ve all paid too much for travel before.

But a grand to go from Philadelphia to Wilmington? Just call an Uber.

The Moorestown mansion once owned by Ben Simmons and then Nick Castellanos has been sold.

It’s a beautiful place. Huge, modern, all the things you’d expect for nearly $5 million.

BUT. That is a tough recent ownership run.

Simmons. Then Castellanos. Two different situations, same general feeling by the end.

Now it’s been sold to an LLC, and there’s a decent chance another athlete could end up there, which feels risky.

At a certain point, you have to wonder if the house has a little some bad juju.

So respectfully, let this go to a normal person. A dentist, maybe an accountant — someone with a quiet life and no playoff expectations. Let the house reset.

Because if another Philly athlete moves in and things go sideways, we’re going to start blaming the address.