On Philadelphia

Let me tell y’all about Philadelphia. It’s the city of brotherly love, killer cheesesteak, and good, honest, hardworking people. As I am writing this, I am racking my brain, trying to remember who is famously from Philadelphia. If our country could be from somewhere, would it be Philadelphia? I’m sure this city is a lovely place full of rich history or culture, but let me tell you, that was not my experience today.

As I fly over the city, I think about the birds eye view of Philadelphia (and other East Coast cities, for that matter) and it feels very eastern bloc-y to me. Bear with me here. It’s the gargantuan, severe, brick mega-plex apartments, the cold weather, the flat landscapes with barren trees and the smoke stacks vomiting into the sky. It just doesn't give me the warm and fuzzies.

I know that I haven’t seen much of you or gotten to know you very well, but I’m sorry Philadelphia, I've made my judgment already and I’d like to leave now.

In my brief experience, Philadelphia is a city that’s 20 degrees outside and 120 degrees inside. It is the city where every woman’s pants must be tucked into her boots, and airport shuttle drivers think it’s their job to test your reflex and balance skills. It’s a place where an elderly woman seated on an airport shuttle feels the need to keep her feet in the isle, directly under the only open handrail space (not very promising for the balance test). It is where the 20-something sitting across from me at gate F1 is dead to the world, swallowed up by his large headphones and iPad. His personal items have seized the opportunity to make an escape and eek all over the row of three seats he is single-handedly occupying at a gate with half as many seats as people. The gentleman standing next to him (for lack of sitting room, I suppose) is entirely unaware that his fly is down. X-amine Your Zipper my friend. His hands are in his pockets, spreading the fly open for all the world to try and find something to stare at to avoid looking. And what an awkward cultural moment. Is it acceptable to say something? Is it acceptable not to? This place makes me uncomfortable.

Last, (and most definitely least of all of my lovely experiences in Philly) is the point when I run to the restroom before boarding my flight. I am minding my own business thinking about how much I dislike this place (truth) when the genius automatic toilet system decides it’s time to flush – with me still on it. I don’t think I even have to try to explain how unnerving this is. If it’s ever happened to you, you know. My distress runneth over.

So, Philadelphia. Please keep sending your cheesesteaks and sushi rolls out into the world. I’ll pass on the rest.