Philly-delphia

But we are on a mission, purposefully walking en masse to Pat's, which, according to Chris, is the only proper place one can obtain a Philly cheesesteak.  Not even the biting cold seeping its way through 650-fill and into my skin can stop me from my provolone-wit.  

Philadelphia is almost unassuming.  With its small buildings and dingy streets, it seems to shrug at New York, then turn its back to the wind and light its cigarette.  Rich with history and sturdy with local pride, Philly seems content, relaxed, unpretentious.  It is tweeds and browns to New York's angular blacks and grays and Miami's violent pastels and greens.  

The night before, we wound our way past the liberty bell (much smaller than you'd think) and into the librarian's convention.  

"This place is full of glasses," Chris observes matter-of-factly over the canned eighties beats.  I nod emphatically, similarly observing the sea of earth tones and black rims pushing their hair behind their ears.  I imagine a fight breaking out over the dewey decimal system, cat scratches and tie pulling.  We self consciously shift to the music, decidely out of place in the bar, laughing at ourselves.  Jessica sips from her "dewey decimator" and arches her eyebrows.  Scotty and Theresa arrive shortly thereafter, and we make our way to another bar, where eighties dance music bleeds from the speakers and beer sloshes in plastic cups.  A girl dances on the bar, spilling cheap liquor into guy's mouths.  Transvestites twirl each other on the dance floor, putting our "Mtv Grind" moves to shame.  Theresa thrusts a purple concoction my way, beaming her infectuous smile.  

"Scotty totally didn't realize that he poured waaay too much Chambord in," she yells to my mock gag. 

She and Scotty dance together, stumbling and laughing.  They radiate energy, emanating a happiness that makes you blush. We laugh and dance to Prince and Salt n Pepa, gawking and laughing, spilling and swaying. Philadelphia is welcoming, between Mari leading you to breakfast and Chris educating you on architecture to Scotty and Theresa whirling you into a dance frenzy and making you burritos before bed.  Philadelphia is vibrant and alive.

Before our cheesesteak adventure, we curl up on couches and watch Always Sunny, laughing off our hangovers and hiding from the cold.  The house is glossy and new yet historic all at once.  Red walls stretch to the vaulted ceilings and hardwood floors shine cold against my bare feet.  My friends fill the house with warmth and welcome.  Philadelphia is relaxed and calm, inviting like the clean sheets Mari thoughtfully places on our bed while we are out. (when we thank her, she smiles and informs us that she's taken a cue from a certain special Wendy)  

Jess and I close the car doors, and I put the car in drive to head back to Connecticut, watching Philadelphia trail away in my rearview.  Frida Kahlo comes in February, and I'll be back for more.