Return to Philadelphia

Of all the things I'd like to remember about this time in my life - my kid, my wife, my friends - I think the thing I'll be most likely remember about this summer is that it was hot.

Damn hot.

Middle of Africa (like the desert parts) hot.

Proof:


Man. That's hot.

The title of this post would be a bit odd if all I did was mention the weather, so let me mention that this week was occasion for me to hop up to Philadelphia for a work meeting. #1Wife and I lived in Philapa for 3 years when I was a resident - a time we both remember very differently. I remember working a lot and then being out in the city every spare minute. She remembers it being cold and that I was working a lot.

In any case, one of the highlights of any visit to Philapa is seeing old friends. I met up with one of my oldest friends (and biggest cheerleaders) right after getting off the plane. First things first: Osteria was one of the best restaurants I've been to in the last year but wondering why the hell I was parking at a Meineke and if my rental Prius was going to get hybrid-jacked was a not highlight.

The food, service, ambiance and company more than made up for it though. In any case, FJC4, here's to you:


I know. I can't believe we have jobs either.
The blurriness, by the way, has NOTHING to do with the wine he's hold up. I swear.

A great meal with a great friend later, I would drive up to the middle of nowhere to stay in a random Inn where I would - literally - show myself to the room. They emailed me the combination to the front door of the Inn.

The front door has a combination. Who are these people?

I'll not name the Inn because if people find out about this, it'll be vandalized on principle alone.
After the meeting, BigTony and I had some time to kill and had a minute to walk through the Italian section. Meats and Cheeses as far as the eye can see:


Are those speed bags above my head? No. Cheese. The amazing thing is that there are 11 of these places all right next to each other and they all have a little grandmother in the back hand-tying the mozzarella. At the end of the Italian section, the dueling Philly Cheesesteak places: Geno's and Pat's. Here's BigTony getting ready to tear into a little bit of tourist heaven. I know it's not the best in the city. BigTony knows it's not the best in the city. But whatever. It's historical. Like the Liberty Bell. 'Cept different.

And no stop to the Italian section would be complete without a little espresso on the way out:


So after all this, we're driving through on the way out - passing through BigTony's old neighborhood, my old neighborhood, past the art museum and waterfront and you get to asking yourself - "why don't I live here? This place has real personality." And then you remember:


The airport strikes again. In all fairness, it was the Atlanta airport's fault but it's the indifference in employees that you can only really find at PHL.

I know - no #1Son in this one. Gratuitously - here he is showing off hiz climbing skillz. Enjoy:



FYI: It ends with an assault on the paparazzi.