I needed to get away from Queens for a bit, so I decided to visit Philadelphia. I’d been there several times before, but not in a few years. I hopped on the Amtrak from Penn Station at noon, and 80 minutes later we arrived at Philly’s Union Station.
I took a Lyft to my hotel, which was kind of a business-class condo type of deal, and checked in. My room was on the 16th floor, and I had a great view of Logan Square and Benjamin Franklin Parkway. After a brief period of chilling on the super king size, super soft and dope as hell bed, I headed out to conquer the city.
I walked about 30 minutes to Independence Hall, home of the Liberty Bell, in the city’s historic district. What struck me during my walk was how Philadelphians gave no ground when passing on the street. I mean New Yorkers are tough, but this was a whole new level. These folks absolutely did not move out of your way at all. They just strode down the street, carefree as hell, and not moving for you or anyone else. Philly strong, I guess.
I hit Independence Hall, glanced at the exhibitions about historic Philadelphia, and made a beeline for the Bell. When I got there, I was pretty impressed. I mean, it’s a 2,000 pound bell that was commissioned in 1752 and stands as a symbol of American independence. If you’re not moved by that, something is a little wrong with you. So I took the obligatory photo of me in front of the bell, and I exited said Hall.
I walked the 30 minutes back to my hotel, stopping at a liquor store to pick up some whiskey and wine, and at a local Wawa around the corner to pick up some water and coke zero. Wawa is kind of Philly’s own 7-11, and they have a lot of, well, crappy stuff. Sodas, gatorade, chips, candy, hot dogs, pizza, more candy, more sodas, and absolutely nothing fresh or healthy in the entire store. It kind of defines food desert.
I spent the rest of my evening listening to music on my laptop, watching the Yankees playoff game, and drinking. All in all, it was a fairly uneventful evening, but there was excitement to come tomorrow.
I woke up around 10:30 the next morning, and hit the gym in the basement. I did 20 minutes on the stationary bike, swigged two bottles of water, and returned to my room to shower.
Bathed and freshly clothed, I headed out to find a cheesesteak. I had it in my mind to travel to North Philadelphia to try a cheesesteak from a local joint, but hunger took over and I ended up looking on yelp for the closest cheesesteak. Cleaver’s came up, a 9 minute walk, and I headed out.
Nine minutes later, and not a minute earlier or later, I arrived at Cleaver’s. The place was nothing remarkable, a two-story delicatessen, but the cheesesteak was absolutely, undoubtedly, incredibly, out of this world fantastically delicious. I ordered the traditional steak with cheese whiz and fried onions sandwich, and there must have been over a pound of meat on there. It was an incredible gastronomic experience of pleasure and joy, and it made me explode with excitement. I wish NYC had a cheesesteak thing going on the way Philly does, but in the meantime, I guess I’ll head South periodically to check out the real deal.
Here’s an interesting thing I noticed about Philadelphia. It’s the 6th largest city in America, and it’s nearly evenly divided between white (44.8%) and African-American (44.2%) populations. There are smaller populations of Asian and Hispanic folks, but it’s really a white and black city.
And what I saw is that black and white Philadelphians mix fairly seamlessly. That’s not to say there isn’t racism, redlining, job discrimination, and police brutality. Because there’s all of that. But on an everyday basis, white people and black people intermingle in public spaces in a very casual, friendly way. At least that’s what it seemed like to me.
And that was a welcome change from my hometown NYC, and especially Queens. Because we have all the same racial issues, and tensions, but on top of that we don’t know how to just be with each other. Our guard is so elevated and our walls are so raised that we can’t enjoy each other’s company and just freakin relax. Everything is so goddamn serious and tribal in New York. So I would say that when it comes to the chill factor among the races, Philadelphia has it down right, and we New Yorkers have a lot to learn.
After the cheesesteak, I got a haircut at a shi-shi hair salon on Chestnut Street off Rittenhouse Square. It was a fairly pleasant experience, but nothing to write home about. I headed back to my hotel, hit the room, and chilled out for about two hours.
At 7:30pm, I decided that I’d better head out soon or else I’d be too lazy to venture out at all. I had smoked a couple hits of weed, and I had had three whiskey cokes too. I was buzzed, primed, and ready to take on the Philadelphia night.
I took a Lyft to the Oyster House, on Sansom Street. The reviews of this place had been pretty spectacular, and although I hadn’t ever really thought of Philly as a seafood destination, I figured I’d give it a shot.
I sat at the bar and had a martini with lemon. Strong, is what it was. Sweet, salty, and strong. I was starting to get a buzz. I ordered two oysters, off the menu, that the bartender told me were from New Jersey. He said they were very salty. I had never thought of New Jersey as Oyster country, but I figured why not.
The oysters arrived, I squirted some lemon on one and popped it in my mouth. Wow! Un-freaking-believable. It was salty, it was zesty, it was rich, it was buttery, it was savory, it was briny, and it tasted like the ocean. All in all, an absolutely incredible experience.
The next course arrived, grilled octopus with chimichurri, and I dug in. Jesus! This thing was incredible. It was earthy, it was chewy, it was charred, and it was citrusy. It was pretty much an explosion of flavor in my mouth.
So far I had had the best oysters of my life, and the best octopus of my life. The only thing left was the main course.
The lobster roll arrived, accompanied by a mound of fries, and I dug in. Holy crap! This thing was amazing. The lobster was meaty, rich, buttery, salty, lemony and full of umami. The most interesting thing about it was that upon taking a bite, it tasted good but not incredible. A moment or two later the secondary flavors took over and it became an orgasm in the mouth. It was just an incredible sandwich of pleasure.
I finished the lobster roll and downed a second beer, on top of the martini I had already had. I was now good and drunk.
I paid the bill, made the eleven minute walk back to my hotel, and took the elevator to my suite on the 16th floor. I entered the room, popped on a station on Pandora based on “Fetish” by Selena Gomez, and kicked back in the super king deluxe soft bed. Tomorrow morning I was heading back to NYC, and to all the stresses and struggles of daily life. But Philly had made an impression on me. It was a really cool city, and it seemed like the folks there had something right about life that we in New York were missing just a little. I’m not sure exactly what that was, but I know that I felt warm in Philly. And warm is a good thing. A very good thing.
