I got back from Philadelphia a few hours ago. It was nice to get out of town, to a place I've never been, if even for a just a few days, most of which were spent flying. My cousin, about a month younger than me, got married. I'm told the bride's family are pretty hard-core party animals. It was quite evident at the reception. Fun nonetheless. And it was really great to see relatives I haven't seen in 2 years or more. I can't even remember the last time I saw the one cousin. He thinks it may have been high school. High school was a looooong time ago. I don't think it was that long ago. College maybe.

While we were having a family reunion of sorts in the Philadelphia suburbs, we managed to locate three highly recommended restaurants serving authentic Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches: Enzo's Italian Eatery, Geno's Steaks, and Pat's King of Steaks. Of the three, Geno's and Pat's have an ongoing rivalry between themselves claiming to have invented the cheesesteak sandwich, and claiming to serve the best sandwich. Of the three, I personally like Enzo's best. Their bread is tastier, and they cram more meat into the sandwich. Neither Geno's nor Pat's are really anything to shout about. I guess it's more of the experience for the casual tourist. For the locals, Geno's and Pat's are staples, and on Saturday nights seem to be the hang-out. I write to you now toting several extra pounds' worth of cheesesteak sandwiches tucked away around my rotund mid-section. It worth the extra pounds. :-)

On the way to Geno's and Pat's on Saturday night, we drove through central Philadelphia, around the Independence Hall/Market Street area. On Saturday night, there seemed to be something going on that I can only describe as resembling Freaknik.

[Disclaimer: To maintain the family-friendly atmosphere here, I will not link to any external information about Freaknik, nor will I recommend searching about it on your favorite search engine. You have been warned.]

For those of you who went with me on my high school band trip to Atlanta, you'll remember Freaknik '94. Basically, while all the preppie frat boys and sorority girls are boozing it up on the beach for Spring Break, African-American college students from all across the U.S. converge on a few locations, the chief of which being Atlanta, Georgia. My high school band had the interesting fortune of being housed in the middle of Downtown Atlanta in the Spring of 1994, right in the middle of Freaknik. Unaware, we were in our rooms in the hotel watching the news, and someone blurts out, "Hey, I think that's our hotel!" So we go to the window, and lo and behold, there's Freaknik '94 in the streets below. We saw a milder scene: inebriated people being wild and crazy, traffic gridlocked for miles. No doubt there were all kinds of debauchery and wantonness happening elsewhere in the city.

So, central Philadelphia last Saturday night kind of reminded me of Freaknik. We were fine, though, 'cuz I's down wit' da homies, yo. We eventually found Geno's and Pat's and had ourselves a nice midnight snack of Philly Cheesesteak Sandwiches. "Mushroom-provolone-wit'!" (That's a steak sandwich with mushrooms, provolone and onions, for those of you who don't speak Pat's lingo.)

Oh, and it was my cousin, the one getting married, that asked, "So when's it your turn?" to which I promptly replied, "Oh, I'm taking my time!"

¶ 8:48 PM