Philly

Two nights away from home feels like an eternity, but it passes in the blink of an eye. Or something like that.

I was back in Philly the past couple days for a work conference. This afforded me the opportunity to catch up on sleep (didn't do that), see some friends and family who live in the city (did that), and generally enjoy being unencumbered by diaper changes and nap schedules (definitely did that).

[I hesitate to write that last phrase because I think it sounds like I'm saying I don't enjoy dealing with those things. To the contrary, I do--but every so often it is nice to feel the freedom to behave like I could in my pre-father era, when I could generally do whatever I wanted, before returning to the safety and familiarity of my current role.]

I love Philadelphia. I visited the city occasionally when I was in college, though in those days we were all too young to drink legally, too poor to really enjoy the city, and too reliant on SEPTA's R5 schedule to stay out too late. A typical evening would include as much discussion about where we should go as it did enjoyment of wherever we ended up. Just walking around the city made me feel alive, though the $12.45 in my wallet severely restricted the amount of fun I could really have on South Street.

Living in Wilmington, DE, the first couple years out of college gave me more incentive to head back into the city. Wilmington was a nice town but there was nothing terribly exciting or romantic about it. I had friends in Philadelphia (and I played ultimate there), so I spent a lot of time driving to and fro and exploring many of the city's most questionable establishments which, by this time, I was old enough to inhabit. My position as a teaching intern did not pad my wallet too much, though, so my evenings out were still cheap and ended early.

I may not have done too much in the city itself, but proximity bred familiarity. Everything in Philadelphia seemed more extreme than in Boston. The crime statistics were significantly higher, especially the murder rate. The homeless population was much more visible than back home. And as bad as Boston's schools seemed to be, Philadelphia had them beat there too--if Boston's were bad, then Philly's were miserable.

Despite all that, I always felt a certain optimism in the city. Philadelphians were proud people. The city's problems may have been front and center for everyone to see, but there was a fundamental honesty in that--Philly was not a perfect city, and didn't pretend to be one. The problems were too big to be swept under the rug. Rather, they somehow helped form the fabric of the city…one strand in a complicated quilt, always compelling, never easy to understand, but beautiful.

But this is all far afield of the past couple days--I've slipped into reverie again.

It was a good couple of days. I took the Acela down on Monday afternoon, unpacked at the Marriott (easily the nicest digs I have ever had in the city, no offense meant to Messrs. Reuter and Eastwick), and met Adam and Sue for dinner. Sue's first restaurant choice, a modern, famous-chef, Mexican-themed place named El Vez, was packed, so we opted for a smaller brewpub a few blocks away. The beer and food was good there. The waitstaff was not; we had a lovely waitress who tried her best to disavow me of all my romantic notions of the city that I outlined above. It didn't work; I'm still smitten. Dessert was gelato, then we walked back to the hotel and said our goodbyes. It was good to see them.

It was past 10 at this point and here I was, all alone in a city with nothing to do, with no kids demanding attention. It was bliss; I went for a walk.

Tuesday morning I actually had work to attend to, and then spent the bulk of the day catching up on old emails and prepping for my conference on Wednesday. That was very unremarkable. The evening, though, was fantastic, as friends Josh and Abby treated me to the Sox-Phils game at Citizens Bank Park. (Abby was the real hero here as she purchased the two tickets knowing I was coming into town, and then offered both up to me and Josh, opting instead to stay at home with the two kids. My gratitude for the gesture may have outweighed my enjoyment of the game!)

The Sox got pounded 5-0. Cliff Lee threw a complete game 2-hit shutout, and Josh Beckett pitched just well enough to let up 5 runs (2 on homers). The seats were great--right field about 20 rows from the field. Not even all of the obnoxious Phillies fans could put me in a down mod about this night…though their incessant clapping to acknowledge any and every achievement by their team made me wish we were sitting amongst other Boston fans.

The ballpark itself is beautiful. And--dare I say it?--I had more fun there than I have had at Fenway in a while. The game was a sellout. Yet you could walk through the concourses without running into 20 people on your way to get a beer, every seat was spectacular, and it was a breeze to get in and out of the stadium. Fenway is great, don't get me wrong--it's my first ballpark love, and the Sox are still my team. But man…those new ballparks can make a guy dream a bit.

There was no time for another evening walk by the time I got back to the hotel. I opted to catch up on some more work and finish prepping for my brief presentation the next day; soon it was 1:30 am and I figured sleep was a good option.

Wednesday (today) was the conference--the sole reason I was here in the first place. I was up early, worked all day, and then hailed a cab to 30th Street Station for the train back to Boston.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I spent much of the past few days thinking about how much I missed this place, warts and all. There was a time in my life when I was convinced that I would move back to the Tri-State area…I thought that Boston would be a transitional place, and that I (and then Natalia and I) would settle in Pennsylvania. That window seems to have closed now; our friends, jobs, lives (and debts) all have distinctly Boston/Waltham addresses. That's ok though. I enjoyed my two-day fling, and I eagerly await our next encounter.