Philadelphia’s an interesting town. It’s urban, like New York, and like most urban areas, it’s a little dirty, but there’s something else brewing beneath the surface of a few littered alleys and some kick ass architecture. The locals strike me as being a little confrontational (this coming from a kid who’s spent 9 years in New York), and with all the different ethnicities you'd think you'd find a melting-pot but Philly is more like a Chinet dish with dividers. The Irish undercurrent here beats New York easy and that takes some doing. You get the feeling these folks never intermarried and never left. Philly has an edge to it – not unlike a redheaded stepchild with a chip on his shoulder and a hell of a right cross.
I have never been to Philly proper before. Many years ago I spent some time in the suburbs, but downtown was a mystery to me so I take the bus in to hang with two friends of mine, 5th generation products of the old Irish guard. Caroline’s in for the week from Austin and her brother, Brian, has returned after an ill-advised stint in Kentucky. We have lunch in Chinatown. It somehow fits in with the theme of displacement. We then spend the next several hours walking around downtown, hitting Irish pubs (they still smoke here?!) and filling up jukeboxes. Fergie’s Pub was my favorite of the evening, with Hoegaarden on tap and members of the local chapter of the IRA trying to pick us up at the bar (I think B. may still be shaking).
They oversold my return bus and I wound up having to take a later one, but the kids kept me company (codename: Protect the Little One) at the station until I could get a seat. I slept the whole way to Port Authority. Was so good to see them, to watch Brian and Caroline interact (you learn so much more about people when they're with family), to have a change in scenery and just get out of what I know for a day. All in all, a delightful Sunday.
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