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THE BARUTI COLUMN PART 6: Philthy by baruti armstrong aka robotsex Having decided to let freedom ring from all of my best secret hiding spots, I find myself in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Philadelphia... the city of brotherly love. Although people were surprisingly rude for their supposed pnchant for being all about brotherly love. I went there for a few days with a bag, couch crashing, for what my friend and I both agreed would be a "new month's eve celebration,"; the changing of the month of January into the month of February. Philadelphia... first of all it's freezing cold. A few weeks back from the heat and humidity of Malaysia and I send myself to Philadelphia. Sure, it mightn't have been the smartest thing to do, but... well, I can be honest I guess... I'm not smart. So I tucked in my shirts and focused my chi and thought warm thoughts. And I know what some of you may be thinking... what the heck is there to do in Philadelphia on January 31st or on February 3rd or in between? I'm not going to lie... I haven't a clue what there is to do in Philadelphia at all... or at least I didn't before I got there and taught myself a thing or two about living like a wealthy bachelor in that city. So what I've done is narrowed down the highlights to a specific few... none of which have to do with living like a wealthy bachelor anywhere.  The Liberty Bell One would think that upon moving to a city like Philadelphia that one would take care to see a few of the sites, not for any particular reason, but at the very least just because. Not my friend. She's such a doll. So one day we make it a point to do something patriotic and something very Philadelphia; we go see the Liberty Bell. And what can I say about the Liberty Bell? It is a big bell... with a crack in it... so it doesn't work. The truth is, we made it downtown but my friend got us lost there, and there didn't seem to be an entrance so we walked around for while before stumbling upon a peace officer who assisted us. And once we made it through the security checkpoint, we were home free. We were there. The Liberty Bell lay directly in front of us... in a room in a different building a good 150 meters away behind us and to our left. We made it just in time for the tour. The lady giving the tour was very nice and I suggested to my friend that she ask for an application as my friend didn't have a job and giving tours of the Liberty Bell seemed extremely easy. There would be nothing to it; visitors come through security, then you take them a little way into the other building show them the bell and give a short history of it. Presto... easy as pie! She didn't ask for an application.  SpaceBoy Music My friend's name is Jennifer and she is a fabulous photographer. In fact she's a freelance photographer. She has high standards and is extremely selective about her work, and would rather stand up for her principles and not take photos just to pay her bills. She's all about the art. I respect that, and am proud to be able to call her my friend. One day she had an assignment, so I went with her. I pretend to know lots about music sometimes so I thought that a trip to the music store would be a cool opportunity for me to show off my California knowledge to some Philadelphia women. We landed at SpaceBoy Music. SpaceBoy Music is a cool place... two levels... 409 South Street... close to a place where I got an official Philadelphia Cheese Steak. Good music selection... compact discs, records... I bought a record there (Tommy Guerrero- Junk Collector). I tried to look important/famous and to act as if I knew crazy amounts about music and was just being nice by not throwing it in everyone's face, but nobody there cared about me. I was just another one of the forlorn, randomly passing through. My first trip there being a grand failure, I gave up any hopes of anything, and the second trip (yes we made a second trip there a few days after the first) was much easier on my ego.  Coffee I forget what we were doing this day, but we end up at some coffee house. It was a nice place. A very nice place, in a nice area. I have some sort of macchiato drink with lots of nutmeg. We sit down and my friend and I chat about life and stuff. I ask her about a drink that she had made for me when we went out one night; she tells me and I try my darndest to remember it. So much so that I think I write it down. (Stoli ras + stoli orange + 7up + orange juice = Sweet tart.) Soon I know it like I know my own social security number. Everyday conversation. We become preoccupied with a mommy and her son sitting behind us. I just look but she takes pictures. Then I make her write. She doesn't want to, but she had no choice in the matter. I start a story about something I've long since forgotten and have her finish it. Like an exercise a teacher would give 7- year- olds. I don't know about her but I had a grand time. I'm easily entertained.  Scrabble One night my friend, myself, and her sister go out for some beer. We end up sitting around a table, playing scrabble, and having pints. Of course me, having been the English major at school ,was expected to win, no matter how many pints I drank, although I might have been the only one with the expectation. And I didn't disappoint. Jennifer launched a strong offensive attack near the end but I managed to come through on a few key scores (yoyo for a triple letter bonus for example) that keep her at bay. Having saved myself the hideous embarrassment of losing to a person who doesn't have a B.A. in English from a California university, I take a special step ensure that I do in fact look like an idiot and take a picture of the board, of my winning moment in a bar in Philadelphia. Still, I'm very proud of my defining moment. |
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