Some people may think that spending their summer in The Hamptons
or the French countryside may be the most glamorous way to waste both money and
time but they are sadly mistaken.
One hasn’t lived until they have summered (summered is a word that reach
people use to describe doing nothing while looking fabulous) in the
ever-so-chic clusterfuck that is Philadelphia.
Nowhere else is patriotism so in fashion than here, the birthplace
of America. Every building is
named after Thomas Jefferson or Benjamin Franklin (seriously every building, it
gets very confusing) and the smell of freedom permeates the air, filling you
with a self-righteous sense of entitlement. Or that could be the smell of piss filling your lungs with
little microscopic bits of human urine and other bodily fluids, either way you
get a nice buzz off it. People
from all over the world flock to Philadelphia every year to see where our great
country was founded and to be sorely disappointed by the size of the liberty
bell. Within a 10-foot radius a
dozen languages can be heard and within that same 10-foot radius a dozen
Americans can be heard complaining about people not speaking English or the
injustice of foreigners not having to pay to see the liberty bell even though
they don’t live here. Ah, America.
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| Independence Hall |
History is alive in Philadelphia. Throughout the streets great men of our nation are forever immortalized in bronze. The forefathers of our country, such as Benjamin Franklin, George Washington and Thomas Jefferson are proudly displayed with heroes from the Revolutionary and Civil wars. While these men may have founded this nation, no one has done more to protect its honor and build foreign relations than Rocky Balboa. Philadelphia has made sure he has his place of honor among the other historic figures that have made America what it is today. Sure, George Washington may have led a rag-tag bunch of soldiers to defeat the pretentious and always slightly effeminate British soldiers (all my knowledge of the Revolutionary War comes from The Patriot and the musical 1776) but did George defeat Dolph Lundgren in Russia to not only brining honor to America but restoring the admiration and respect of the Soviet Union, thus ending the cold war? I think not George. Clearly Rocky is a better American and there is no question he deserves the bigger bronze statue.
Traveling in Philadelphia is a breeze. If you’re new to driving this is the
city for you. Ever forget what the
green light means? Well worry no
more. Here in Philly everyone
assumes that everyone else is driving with a severe brain injury and has
forgotten they are in a car, let alone how to operate one. The instant that light turns green not
one, not two, but three cars behind you will honk with such zeal and enthusiasm
that you’ll think you have just run over Jerry Sandusky or a Yankees fan . Don’t worry, you haven’t. Here in Philly they just want to make
sure you know it’s been half a millisecond since the light changed and you surprisingly
haven’t moved yet. Are you
colorblind? Then come drive in
Philly. If your inability to
distinguish red from green has kept you from taking control of a 3 ton death
machine on wheels then go no further than Philly. Here, red and green mean the same thing, go go go!! So buckle up, get your horn-hand (as
well as a specific finger) ready and press that accelerator to the floor. No color vision, no licenses, no
problem.
If cars aren’t your style try one of the many subway or
regional rail lines. Riding the
rails is like being in France or Switzerland. Not because Europe has mastered the rail system but because
every announcement over the speaker is completely unintelligible. Sure, you may not be in Sweden but your
conductor sounds like the Swedish Chef drunk. You don’t like waiting for transportation you say, well no
problem. While waiting for the
train to come you sill slowly be suffocated 30 feet below ground. Between the crush of 50 strangers and
the complete lack of air your 30-minute wait for a train will fly by as you succumb
to blackness of sleep, also known as a platform nap. If the screeching of your train arriving doesn’t wake you up
someone will eventually poke you with the end of a broom and tell you bums
can’t sleep in the train station.
Oh the thrill of being mistaken for a local.
You fancy Hiltons and Clooneys can keep your Italian lake
houses and sprawling Hamptons estates.
Your night clubs, house parties and polo matches are nothing compared to
watching a marathon of Pawn Stars in a room at a Best Western that serves eggs
from a plastic bag and playing street polo. For those who don’t know what street polo is it consists of
you driving down a road and attempting to avoid hitting the dozens of random
people that walk down the middle of a 5 lane street. It is exhilarating and just a little messy, much like
Philly.
