Day 3: Philadelphia, PA

I checked out Drexel University today and met up with one of my dad's friends, Ronnie. Ronnie's this funny guy with huge glasses that just talks and talks and talks. He got us this fantastic Italian sub from a sub shop, and gave my dad various cooking things, like cheeses and herbs, et cetera. We drove through Chinatown, which was pretty sketchy, and then we passed the first porn theater that I've ever seen in my life. There was a large man in line for it. "I do NOT want to know what that 300-pound man will be doing in there. Jesus," Ronnie exclaimed. We walked down this nice little parkway, and I walked up the stairs that Sylvester Stallone ran up in the now-famous Rocky scene, at the Philadelphia Museum of Art. I would've run, but I didn't have the appropriate clothes and I would have felt like a tourist. And we all know how much I despise being a tourist.

Getting back to Ronnie, he told us about how his once all-Jewish neighborhood has transformed into a ghetto. He thought he heard firecrackers the other day and they were gunshots. Misses the days where he could sit out on the porch and not worry about being hit with the shrapnel of a driveby. Despite his situation, he has this great optimism about everything, and he was very lighthearted while we were with him. I like Ronnie.

Philadelphia's a mess though. There was something about that city that made me feel like I was going to be the victim of a carjacking. I couldn't wait until I got out of there. This weird fear can be attributed to the fact that I've never liked cities. There's nothing nice to look at in cities. It's just concrete and brick and some historical sites. It's too cramped, too busy. The worst kind of atmosphere. Small towns are where it's at. With two turntables and a microphone.