Back From the Big City

First things first: it has come to my attention that my previous black market blog template might have been preventing people from commenting, so I have reverted to one of the Blogger-approved models. I expect you to take advantage of the newly-restored commenting capabilities ASAP.

Also, I'm back from my visit to Philly! It was a really awesome time, I have to say. It's always nice to spend some time with one of your bosom buddies, the kind that you know you can count on, the ones that will always be there for you and love you no matter what and will hardly bat an eyelash when you spontaneously start sharing about your sex life in the middle of a Philadelphia Barnes & Noble.

So, highlights of my trip included our whirlwind diversion to NYC, as well as the Philadelphia Art Museum. Disappointments include the fact that I forgot to eat a cheesesteak at any point during my trip, and also the fact that I didn't see Nicolas Cage even once. Being a southerner from a relatively small town, my favorite pasttime while in Philly was to find differences between here and there and exclaim, "Well! The things you learn in the big city!"

I have a fair amount of pictures but I don't have access to them right now, since I may or may not be writing this at work, so those will have to wait until a subsequent post. But here are some memorable moments that I can share without the aid of pictures...

There was the moment I had on Saturday night, standing around Le Poisson Rouge (the club we went to), holding a $7 beer in my hand and secure in the knowledge that my coat was being given the best supervision that $4 can buy, when I looked around and realized that I had found something really special. Surrounded by casually-dressed hipsters dancing ridiculously to the musical stylings of Max Tundra, it hit me that "going out" doesn't have to be so stressful. It doesn't have to be an endless train of concerns like, "Am I dressed nicely enough? Am I overdressed? Are these shoes comfortable enough to dance in?" And then once you get there it's all, "Is my dancing silly? Am I dancing enough? Am I sweaty right now? What does my hair look like?" (This can't just be me, can it?) Instead, you can go to a place where it's ok to wear your ever-loving SNEAKERS and where the music is so off-the-wall that any way you dance seems perfectly appropriate. I'm just here to spread the gospel, people. This is the way of the future.

Another perfect moment was when, after walking all weekend through snow and ice, rigidly afraid that I was going to fall and break something important, I finally slipped on some ice in the middle of the street. Luckily, I caught myself, stayed upright, and looked super awesome and agile (in my head). Afterward, Kellie shamefacedly confessed, "When you started to fall, instead of reaching to catch you, I moved to get out of your way so you wouldn't bring me down, too. ... I would have helped you up if you had fallen, though." Maybe I should rethink all that stuff I said up there about friends that will always be there for you.

Here is where I remind you that Kellie and I both have what scientists refer to as "birthing hips" or "thick asses." This will be important in the next paragraph.

The third and final great moment that I will share today took place in the art museum, where there are security guards stationed in every major room to make sure you do not try to shove a priceless Degas down your pants. Most of these security guards just kind of ignore you. One of them chastised me for standing in the rocks by the Japanese tea room. But my favorite was the woman who spontaneously asked Kellie and I if we were related. No, we replied, just friends. "Oh," she said, patting her hips, "well you're shaped alike."