So... It's Sunday afternoon and I'm finishing the last bit of packing for my Philadelphia business trip. I woke up early Sunday to do some laundry and iron some short sleeve shirts to bring with me. I rummaged through my black canvas Samsonite suitcase to make certain I wasn't forgetting anything. With a final decisive zip of the bag, I grabbed it by its leather bound handle, and then slung my backpack, overstuffed with documentation, onto my back. I scurried to the kitchen quickly to check the lock on the back door, fastened my "bat prevention" towel into its position at the base, and then headed out the front door. I Locked the door, checked it a couple of times, then paused with momentary concern to recollect my preparations, and run through a mental list in my head. Struggling to be satisfied I pushed on and descended the front stairwell.
I walked out the door, and felt a sprinkle from above. Letting out an exasperated sigh, I held out my hand only to feel the descending drops multiply in intensity. My timing couldn't be more perfect, and as I saw the bubbles forming on the canvas of my luggage, I backstepped into the entry way to my building. Wearily I bent over, dropped my backpack to the floor, and quickly searched for my flimsy portable umbrella. My superstitious nature kept we from opening it inside. I stepped out onto the cement landing and propped my pathetic accessory open in the hopes of shielding myself from the elements.
By now the rain was driving, falling in heavy sheets that bubbled and splattered on the asphalt as though it were boiling on contact. It was like there were a hundred-billion multi-mode shower heads up in the heavens, and they were all set to massage. I cursed under my breath and began busting ass with my suitcase rolling along behind me on its wheels. The rhythmic thud as it passed over the crevices in the cement slabs motivated me to keep a steady pace.
I attempted to aim my functionally challenged umbrella in a manner to maximize it's effectiveness, however my efforts appeared futile. Looking over my shoulder with a frown I watched the bubbles on the canvas slowly give way to saturation. Unfortunately I was not prepared to take corrective action. I had a schedule to keep, and I was too stubborn to try and get a taxi or wait for a bus, just to go the short distance to the Oak Grove T station.
My T ride was smooth, no temporary shuttle buses, no excessive schedule corrections, and no medical emergencies. I arrived at Logan right around two hours before my flight.
I've become a frequent flier (sort-of) as of late, and I've noticed that the increased security precautions for domestic flights, actually have expedited arrivals. This is likely not the case for international flights. I guess it is mostly due to the huge reduction in carry-on luggage. Since no liquids are allowed, that means overnight bags with bathroom supplies, etc., must be "checked" luggage. Since most people do not want to buy toothpaste, deodorant, and shaving cream, and then promptly throw it away before returning home, almost everyone checks their luggage in. This has created a large reduction in the lines to enter the flight terminals, and has helped alleviate some of the bottle-neck that occurs at the security check points.
When I entered the new U.S. airways terminal at Boston, I dragged my feet and mumbled a bit. I definitely was not looking forward to the trip. They've been a bit stressful lately and have yielded long days, new obstacles, and new questions, and this one was to be no acception.
I had anticipated originally going to the "Legal Seafood" bar by good old gate "B8", but ultimately I couldn't part with my money. Instead I decided upon distracting myself with some non-alcoholic sustenance. Millennium would cover this, and it would still please me if only for a moment. I headed back to the terminal's food court and settled on a slice of pizza from Sabarro's.
A couple in front of me, of a decidedly higher class than that of my own was ordering food for themself. The man was the type of smug creep that talked down to the cashier. It was that sickening sort of insincere pleasantry. His personal pride was not something contained and beneficial, but rather it was something that advertised his self-perceived greatness. I'm sure in his mind he thinks the woman is too dim not to be won over by his vomit inducing patronization of her. I wish he could hear the sound of his own voice when compared to everyone else that placed an order there. I wish he could understand how it makes people feel. It is likely however that he could not be enlightened, and that he would never understand exactly how his tone demeans those around him.
It took this man about ten minutes to order because he got in line before he made up his mind on what he wanted. He was the only there when I arrived, however there was soon about ten of us waiting behind him. The staff at Sabarro's began actually serving the rest of us while he contemplated toppings, smoothies, sodas and pieces of cheesecake. Unfortunately there was only one register, so by the time I could actually pay for my slice of pizza, it was no longer hot.
I found myself a table, ate my unexceptional fast food fare, and finished reading "The Water Method Man". Then I moved to the lounge seats at gate B8, and began to finish up "The Europeans". It became apparent that the plane was not going to arrive for the 5:30 departure. It was an hour late and I easily finished the Europeans, finishing up all of the extra-curricular reading material I'd brought for my journey.
I was now bored and irritated. I purchased a coffee at Au Bon Pain to serve as another distraction, and to warm me up. The terminal was freezing, and I was second guessing all of the work I had put into ironing short sleeved shirts that morning.
Eventually I got on the plane and I busied myself reading the "US Airways" catalogues and magazines. I looked at travel ads and almost even found myself wondering what the
Cirque du soleil Beatles show would be like. Boredom can do funny things to a man.
It was a rainy night in Philly, and we had to circle the runway for an hour before landing. When all was said and done, I arrived in Philadelphia at 8:30 instead of the expected 6:30pm. So much for running up the Art museum stairs and pretending I was Rocky. Damn! It was pouring anyway, so it would not have done me any good to have been there on time.
My taxi driver dropped me off at my hotel, the Hilton Garden Inn. I couldn't help but think I was contributing to Paris's wealth.
The hotel was near China Town, in Central Philadelphia. It was a nice place, much smaller than the Marriott I'd previously stayed at, and decidedly it was a bit more low key. It was also adjacent to the Philadelphia Convention center which connects several blocks with imposing catwalks. The catwalks sort of make you feel like you are in Gotham, and despite them being a recent renovation to the city, I felt it added a bit of a sinister element to the area.
I ordered some buffalo wings from the hotel restaurant and picked them up after deciding it was raining too hard to walk anywhere. I wolfed them down, and then went to the fitness center and used the elliptical machine for forty minutes. I went to sleep watching "Taxi" with Queen Latifa and Jimmy Fallon, which was fairly bad, but somewhat entertaining regardless.
The next morning, at quarter of seven I went to the "City Hall SEPTA station" and boarded the subway to my destination. SEPTA is Philadelphia's "MBTA" or transit authority. It stands for
South Eastern Pennsylvania Transit Authority. These stations are filthy, dark, somewhat vacant, and down right scary at times. There were about a dozen, and that isn't an exaggeration, homeless people sleeping in the station when I walked through. I almost tripped over a man who's pants (and underpants) were down around his knees as he laid face-down on wet cement. Luckily the sudden appearance of a hairy ass in my line of sight made me jump and I avoided him.
I admit, I was a little scared here. The only people who were walking about coherently were a
handful of world weary characters who you would not want to meet in a dark alley (or a dank smelly subway tunnel... go figure). Eventually these entry tunnels gave way to larger main tunnels containing a dunkin doughnuts and a few shops. There were a few more people here making me feel a bit less intimidated. The train was dead, I was one of two people in my cart at 7:00 am. Coming from Boston where the train cars are jammed packed at this time, I found this extraordinary, especially since gas is as pricy as it is. The train ran efficiently however, and I decided I would still brave it out again. The photo to illustrate my SEPTA experience is "borrowed" from the Philadelphia News.
I ended up working late that night, till around 9:30. The people suggested I better not travel on SEPTA alone at that time, so I accepted a ride back to the hotel from one of them. I ordered take out from Chili's and talked to Kate on the phone while I waited for my food. The chicken fingers I purchased hit the spot, and I went for a dip in the hotel pool and jacuzzi before heading back to the room. This time I caught War of The Worlds before going to bed. I actually liked it quite a bit which definitely caught me by surprise.
Sleeping that evening did not work out for me. There were several thug-teenagers who were running around the hallways and messing with the doors. There was slamming, yelling, swearing, running, more swearing, and so the process went. I made sure my door was dead-bolted and chained, however I wasn't quite prepared to call the front desk. I figured if they weren't aware these characters were rummaging around in there, they had to be brain dead. Shortly after it began, I heard the cops walking outside my door. Their presence did little to dissuade these kids from continuing, because they were back in ten minutes, and I'm guessing they were there all night. I convinced myself I was safe at some point around 4:00 am, despite their continued presence, and dozed a bit.
That morning I took SEPTA again. While it was still vacant, the homeless were not there this morning. I actually tried avoiding the entrance I had used Monday, but unfamiliar with the area I resorted to going the same way. Perhaps a slight delay had just adjusted my timing so I did not run into them. Then again, maybe it was just because it had been pouring out Sunday night, and there were only showers on Monday.
Central Philadelphia, and in fact, most of Philadelphia, save a few "hot spots" like the old city and South street... most of it I'm learning is kind of a rough place. Even in the restaurant & theater district most of the people are unsavory sorts. The poverty level seems high, and the city is grimy. Stores all close before 6:00 pm. Streets seem vacant compared to other large cities I've spent time in, even during rush hours. Urban renewal is definitely there enforce, but I'm not sure it will make much of a difference. I think much of the city is already quite attractive, but it's economy appears rusty, and its people tired. If any of you New England folks remember what Providence was like ten to fifteen years ago, think of that, but just imagine a lot more mentally ill people walking around. That is a pretty good drawing of downtown Philadelphia.
The suburbs that I've seen, lack trees, are incredibly flat, and amongst them are scattered junk yards, abandoned factories and warehouses, chemical holding tanks, and refineries. Billboards are everywhere advertising everything from the latest Disney film, to Philly's multitude of Gentleman's clubs. Philly's skyline is visible easily from many vantage points because everything is so flat. Two mirrored glass highrises in the the tradition of the Empire state
building dominate the downtown. From a distance they look terribly out of place contrasted to all of the decay around them. Also contributing to Philly's atmosphere are several enormous suspension and/or metal frame bridges spanning the Delaware river and other bodies of water. The land almost has a rural feeling despite being the city. Its as though someone started building a massive infrastructure to plan a city of epic proportions, but instead of blocks upon blocks of row homes and apartments, only temporary looking cinder block flats were built along side the occasional wooden duplexes.
Outer Philadelphia looks incomplete to me, a project started and abandoned. The highways are incredibly busy, although it feels like everyone is just trying to pass through a barren expanse of urban wilderness rather than participate in it.
On my first visit I was very excited about being in downtown Philadelphia. Now I kind of feel that there isn't a whole lot to see there that I didn't see on that very first trip. Although I'm sure there are gems out there to see, I don't feel safe there on foot and my desire for further exploration has essentially evaporated. I think if I find myself back down there again, I'll stay outside of town, at least that way I probably won't have wanna be gangsters prancing about my hotel halls. Lets just sum up my opinion by saying... I can understand why Philadelphia is shrinking more than any other U.S. city.
My flight back to Boston was perhaps a pinnacle of the misfortunes I suffered. To briefly describe this I will say the following, due to inclement weather, my plane scheduled for a 7:30 take off, left at 12:15 am. I got back to my apartment at 2:00 am after a nice $40+ cab ride back. Joy of Joys.
Well.... I have Friday off. And that's good if nothing else.
with the hum of labour; trees bend beneath the thick clusters of rich fruit which bow their branches to the ground; and the corn, piled in graceful sheaves, or waving in every light breath that sweeps above it, as if it wooed the sickle, tinges the landscape with a golden hue.
with the hum of labour; trees bend beneath the thick clusters of rich fruit which bow their branches to the ground; and the corn, piled in graceful sheaves, or waving in every light breath that sweeps above it, as if it wooed the sickle, tinges the landscape with a golden hue.
