Monthly Archives: February 2016

A Letter to Philly

Dear Philadelphia, 

I never visited you before, but something about your gratified overpass and checkerboard neighborhoods tells me: you don’t care. 

As a city, you lie somewhere between Union City, New Jersey, and Boston, Massachusetts (though closer to Union City.). Your streets at first charm me, but soon disturb me.  Why, Philadelphia, do some of your residents still catcall oblivious women tourists on her way to a cheesesteak?

And speaking of food, you Philly have lots to brag about!  I can’t comment on your cheesesteaks (I never made it to Pat’s) but your pizza is top notch.  You’re home to what is (allegedly) the greatest pizza in America: Pizza Beddia.  A place so hip and so cool my friends and I have to stand in line two hours just to make sure we get a pie (did I mention they only make 40 a night?).  I don’t know if it’s the greatest pizza in America, but it might be the most expensive (did I mention they only take orders in person?).  Pizza Beddia: The greatest pizza adventure in America.

But enough about food, your museums are…interesting.  Anyone who would enjoy viewing a 19th century cadaver preserved in soap should visit your Mutter Museum.  Everyone else should probably find something else to do.  

Like your historical sites!  You won’t find Lady Liberty anywhere else.  I mean, the Liberty Bell.  My tour of Independence Hall left me with one burning question: Why is our nation’s capital Washington DC and not Philadelphia?  A ranger later tells me it’s because that’s what George Washington wanted. 

Sticking around your nice spots, I start to think, ‘gee, maybe raising a family in real city wouldn’t be so bad after all? Look at the culture! Look at the diversity!’  And then I have to buy birthday candles for my sister at a CVS.  CVS is out of birthday candles.  Why Philly, don’t you have a Walmart someplace walkable and convenient?  I’m sure your residents like everyday low prices as much as we suburbanites.  

I’ll likely visit you again Philly.  After all, my sister is there.  But once she leaves I might not come back.  And something tells me that you don’t care.