I wrote my parents an email to let them know what I knew of my schedule regarding flights and events. It's 20in24 weekend, ya'll!!!1! And amid all the running and not sleeping and working and running and running and also the not sleeping, I'm trying to fit in as much time as possible with my parental units. I have a couple hours to kill in between the last Back on My Feet responsibility I have and my flight back to Boston, so I suggested to my parents that we grab lunch in the city and maybe take a walk through one of my favorite neighborhoods. Like Rittenhouse. Or University City. Or Fairmount. Or South Philly. Or Penn's Landing. Or Center City. Or or OR OROROROR when suddenly I became so overwhelmed thinking about all of these places -- some of my favorite places in the world -- that I burst into tears. And once that dam came down, the tears just kept on coming. I was sobbing. SOBBING. And all I could do was sit there at my desk, drying my tears and missing my home so much my stomach hurt and I thought I might vom.
And now I could tell you all about how I luuurve urban environments, but Boston ... sigh. Boston is so ... it's just ... I just can't warm up to it. I've found the city of Boston to be segregated and elitist and totally lacking in that scrappy, artistic vibe that is the lifeblood in Philadelphia because people here are too busy popping their collars and talking about their boarding school days. I recently heard someone refer to their "mummy" and I wanted to punch them in the face. But I won't go there.
I miss the flannel. And the dive bars. I miss the funky street festivals and the beards and the approachable art and the character of Philadelphia. Boston doesn't have the quirky, scrappy soul I love so much. The starving artists who transform cities. What culture Boston has is very ... expensive.
Go ahead, Boston, you can send me your hate mail now. Or better yet, send me proof that Boston does have soul. That it has funk. Tell me about the best dive bar in town and I promise to meet you there. And I mean true dive bar that has some of the best music and best bartenders in town, but you'd certainly be afraid to use the bathroom there. Where is the mixing of cultures and meshing of ideas? I promise I'll take you up on everything and maybe even we'll document it here. But until then, Imma jus' go on hatin'.
Anyway. I'm pretty excited to get down there and if I know myself -- which I think I do -- I have a feeling that come Tuesday afternoon, I might be holed up in my parents' attic hugging my knees and singing the "Fly Eagles Fly" song. So you won't be hearing from me much until then.
But in the mean time, if you're in the Philly area and you want to see me "holy shit I'm so happy to be in Philadelphia" face this weekend, then come down to the Schuylkill River and participate in, cheer runners on at, or volunteer for Back on My Feet's 20in24! WE NEED MORE VOLUNTEERS! Just like last year, it's gonna be a great time. So see ya there orrrr see ya at another time.Tweet