A whirlwind weekend indeed! Rather than go on ad nauseaum about my trip, I have compiled and edited a photographic essay.
I arrived at the airport about an hour too early, thus, I wandered to the bar to enjoy a tall frosty one.
Friday night I flew in at 12:00am. Shared a cab with a sassy young doctor into Center City, where the pumpkin eater extraordinaire resides. It was late so we did a quick catch up at a local bar, since it had been a year since we had last talked in person. After a few beers we moseyed down to a weird party and a club called Pure, where I got an early meeting of some of Peter's friends. We were smashed by 3am and wandered back home to crash. The next morning we made a quaint brunch at his house.
In case you're wondering, this is how you spell Philadelphia.
Peter gets crazy when he cooks potatoes.
Don't be fooled by our craftsmenship, these puppies came out of an exploding can.
After brunch, we proceeded to mill about the city for the remainder of the afternoon, making our way down to the Reading Terminal indoor market, and then a party at his co-worker's house.
We passed this on the street a little later and I thought it was neat because Donald Grant is my Grandad's name, R.I.P.
These things were everywhere in Philly, right next to every stoop. I had been wondering what they were for but before I could even ask, Peter read my mind and informed me that those guys are foot scrapers that are from back in yesteryear when people's boots were muddy from riding horses.
There are about a billion murals in Philly.
We passed this boarded up window which had a certain charm on its own accord, but with a little inspection I noticed what made it an even more quaint little spot. Possibly one of the loveliest things I've seen written on a wall in quite some time.
This guy was really cranky. He must have just woken up from a nap. Also, he is the only blue eyed horse in Philly.
So, Hard Rock Cafe totally blows, but they are in every city so you might as well make the most of them for photo opportunities. Shooooot.
At the market, there was the world's tiniest bookstore, which was jam full of books. I'm pretty sure this is what my mind looks like. Paradise.
The next day Peter and I decided to be mega tourists, all old-fashioned like.
Here we fuggin' go.
Peter was not exactly as thrilled as I was about having his picture taken in front of every square inch of Philly.
I, on the other hand was ready to ham it up.
This was drawn on one of the dots on the dominos. Amazing.
Oh love park . . .
And the rocket's red glare! The bombs bursting in air!
I don't even remember who this man was. Google it.
So, previous to our adventure in tourism, we tested an age old battle of wills. Wait, let me back track even more. Basically, Philly Cheese Steak sandwiches are my most favorite thing in the whole entire universe! Of course in Philly, I wanted to know where the best of the best was. Continually I was pointed in the direction of Pat's or Geno's. The two are arch rivals which reside kitty corner from each other. Peter and I decided to have a taste test to decide which we thought was best.
Geno's came first (this picture taken from the patio at Pat's).
Geno's has a rather uninspired plaque on the ground.
Geno's was all about the flash, and the white people.
My honest to goodness first bite of a real philly cheese steak. good god.
beauty of beauties.
This little guy watched me eat my whole dang sandwich.
Pat's came second (this picture taken from the patio at Geno's).
This is where Rockey ate his sandwich. People don't really seem to care that much, I had to clean it off with my feet. I liked it better dirty though.
Wiz With. That's how you order. Peter told me so.
My honest to goodness last bite of my second real philly cheese steak sandwich. good lord.
many many beauties.
It was a very close call, but Pat's won by a nose 'cause the meat was better and I liked the ambiance.
Peter is digesting.
You know . . .
I was only there for three days. It most sincerely was the longest and loveliest three days I've had in months.