Philadelphia - December 2004
Well, you see, it's like this: I am back in the USA for the third year in succession. I must admit, I didn't think I'd get there this year, but whaddya know? It's December and I'm in the City of Brotherly Love. No punk band this time. No excessive drinking. No breaking down in the desert in a van with no AC. It's just me this year. On my own. Well, me, my ego and several of my closest personalities. Hell, I've even got a hotel room and a bed this year!
I don't have any fixed idea of what I shall do but, the one thing that I am sure of, is that I am not going to go home and tell people that I came to Philadelphia and didn't have a Cheese Steak, dagnabbit. I have asked a few people and the majority vote goes to Geno's down in South Philly.
I happened to be in the area, on work-related matters; the business thing was all done and dusted and my colleague was off to Chicago to see rellies and do the Christmas present swapping routine. So, I figured that as I'd got a couple of days to myself, I could either spend it in an Amish shopping mall in deepest, darkest rural Pennsylvania, or I could see the city - mainly by getting lost, as is my wont. Anyway, who'd a thunk it? The big city lights won out. With unseemly haste, I changed my hotel to the Wyndham Franklin in Philadelphia, bid my main man Anthony adieu and kicked back to watch some ESPN and scarf down some room-service beer and pizza.
I don't have any fixed idea of what I shall do but, the one thing that I am sure of, is that I am not going to go home and tell people that I came to Philadelphia and didn't have a Cheese Steak, dagnabbit. I have asked a few people and the majority vote goes to Geno's down in South Philly.
I happened to be in the area, on work-related matters; the business thing was all done and dusted and my colleague was off to Chicago to see rellies and do the Christmas present swapping routine. So, I figured that as I'd got a couple of days to myself, I could either spend it in an Amish shopping mall in deepest, darkest rural Pennsylvania, or I could see the city - mainly by getting lost, as is my wont. Anyway, who'd a thunk it? The big city lights won out. With unseemly haste, I changed my hotel to the Wyndham Franklin in Philadelphia, bid my main man Anthony adieu and kicked back to watch some ESPN and scarf down some room-service beer and pizza.
Once replete from my Pantagruellian repast, I plugged in the laptop, hooked myself up to cyberspace and typed in 'things to do in Philadelphia'. After I'd discarded all of the results that included people wanting me to do things to them, people offering to do things to me, and a number proffering quadrupeds of assorted shapes and sizes for my amusement and delectation, I isolated a couple of likely possibilities for the following day.
The first option was 'The Big Bus Company': an open-topped, London, double-decker bus sightseeing tour of, well, the sights. Now, this definitely had possibilities. On the plus side, no roof and windows was good for the photography side. However, in December, with the likelihood of rain being better than "Tcha! It's December, dude!", a disconcerting number of roadside trees along the route, and the small matter of me not having any pants, it needed some thought.
The first option was 'The Big Bus Company': an open-topped, London, double-decker bus sightseeing tour of, well, the sights. Now, this definitely had possibilities. On the plus side, no roof and windows was good for the photography side. However, in December, with the likelihood of rain being better than "Tcha! It's December, dude!", a disconcerting number of roadside trees along the route, and the small matter of me not having any pants, it needed some thought.
Actually, I guess I should explain that last sentence. I don't mean I was intending to walk around Philadelphia in my grunts; when I had packed my bag, I had neglected to include a pair of jeans. I had my suit and a pair of sweat pants, neither of which would be much use if the heaven's opened and, let's face it, I would have looked a right arse doing the tourist thing in my suit pants and a CBGB's t-shirt. Yeah, OK, I could have bought a pair of jeans, but who wants to walk around a strange town for hours on end, in a new pair of stiff, scratchy, jeans? Between the chafing, the rough stitching, and those insidious plastic sales tags that are invisible to the naked eye, but always there, I would most likely end up with a lolloping gait, guaranteed to land me in the big house on a hamster-raper beef with a rat jacket, destined to end my days as Bubba's shower toy. There's definitely parts of that scenario that do not appeal!
The alternative was a Trolleybus tour; same kind of thing, similar route, but with windows and a roof. Photographically-speaking, roofs, windows, glass and stuff is, er, challenging at best, and I don't like people - they get in the way of the shot. Meteorologically, of course, it scores some major plus points on the elemental protection front. Life is hard; swings and roundabouts.
In actuality, there was a third option, which I had not even considered, as I drifted off to sleep, lulled into the arms of Morpheus by the irresistible potential of a compact, airtight, watertight, dust-proof, storage system, for the amazing price of only $19.95... ZZZZZZzzzzzzzz...
Click here for the next bit...
The alternative was a Trolleybus tour; same kind of thing, similar route, but with windows and a roof. Photographically-speaking, roofs, windows, glass and stuff is, er, challenging at best, and I don't like people - they get in the way of the shot. Meteorologically, of course, it scores some major plus points on the elemental protection front. Life is hard; swings and roundabouts.
In actuality, there was a third option, which I had not even considered, as I drifted off to sleep, lulled into the arms of Morpheus by the irresistible potential of a compact, airtight, watertight, dust-proof, storage system, for the amazing price of only $19.95... ZZZZZZzzzzzzzz...
Click here for the next bit...