That was a good fucking sandwich

Repost of my original Facebook note from Friday, July 16, 2010 at 11:34am

Today I'm in Philly with Nicole. She's off presenting at some English Nerd Conference so I decided to tour the city and try some of this world famous cheesesteak I've heard so much about. Apparently two of the best places out here, Geno's and Pat's are only two miles away from the hotel we're staying at. What better way to get to know the city than to walk over there and try them out?

The news has been whining all morning about how hot it's going to be today. When I first stepped out, I immediately thought these people are a bunch of wusses. This is not hot. This is moderately warm. Hot is 105 in the San Fernando Valley in the summer. Really hot is 120 in Vegas in the summer. Hot is opening the door and feeling the heat smack you in that face. That's the Valley. Really hot is opening the door and feeling the moisture in your eyeballs vanish while you have visions of your death pass over you. That's Vegas. Today was, "It's warm out; glad I wore shorts." And so I began my tour with a hop in my step ready to check this town out.

Now, we're staying in Society Hill which is apparently the historic area. The buildings are pretty neat - at least for this kid from the Valley. But there's something off about this place. I couldn't quite put my finger on it at first but about half a mile in I figure it out. The ratio of hot chicks to even moderately good looking guys here is like forty to one. Am I hallucinating? Is this moderately warm day getting to my head? Nope. It's weird but true. There are really hot chicks all over the place. Walking their dogs (which, by the way, are almost exclusively pitbull here) and shopping and socializing. Granted, it's moderately warm so everyone is in their summer outfits, but as I look around I'm noticing all the guys are generally pretty ugly. I know, this is a really odd observation, but it was real and it was distracting me from the architecture.

About halfway there a light breeze picked up. This made the weather very nice. Seriously, I could love this place. I can't believe the people here are such pansies. No wonder they can't win in sports. Man up people!

The second half of the trip out there made me realize something else about the people here. They're all tattooed. I mean EVERYONE! Little kids were inked up and giving me attitude. Grandma's out for a walk with their other grannie friends were inked up chatting up a storm. I felt like a freak for my pure skin. Even all the hot chicks walking by looked like they might cut me if I didn't smile at them. Maybe they are tough here? No time to think about it. We're here!

I almost forgot pictures for you guys! This is Geno's.

I stopped by Geno's first because it was on my side of the street. The person in line in front of me kept asking the lady questions and was pissing the lady off. Then she tried to pay with a credit card and the lady ordered her to leave and come back with cash. She was with her little boy of about six so I manned up and said, "I got her." The mean lady behind the counter snapped back, "Then what do you want?" I quickly replied "provolone with" and paid the lady with cash. The lady in front of me thanked me very much and then asked what it was I ordered. I explained the cheeses and the with/without onions, etc. She asked what you're supposed to say if you want mushrooms or peppers and I told her I had no idea - this was my first time in Philly. She laughed, thanked me again and we went our separate ways. All in all, it was an ok sandwich. Nothing really special about it. I know a bunch of you are going to say I should have gone with the whiz, but I felt I should go classic my first time.

Now, the plan at this point was to go back to the hotel. I'd decided I was going to do one place today and the other tomorrow. But while posting pictures on Facebook, Rocky Zamora challenged me to compare both today. As most of you know, I generally don't back down from a challenge. You probably also know that challenges rarely work out well for me.

And this is Pat's...

Going from Geno's to Pat's was like going from McDonalds to In-N-Out. There's really no comparison. Geno's has all the tourist crap you can buy to tell your friends you were in Philly. Pat's has none of that but they do have an old grouchy guy taking your order and inked up juice heads giving you your drink. The sandwich here had at least twice the meat and the quality of that meat was at least twice as good. The bread was probably better at Geno's but the way it all came together at Pat's made this a first round KO. I was actually a little worried after eating at Geno's that I would be biased towards them because I was kinda full when I went to Pat's. I ended up scarfing down the sandwich and getting another soda for the walk back to the hotel. I hadn't stretched my stomach like this in a while!

This is where I realized what a huge mistake I'd made. First, it's gone from moderately warm to kinda hot. It's true that humidity makes things worse, but that wasn't what was getting to me. I didn't make it two blocks before I realized my stomach was about to rip open and I had two miles to walk. Whose stupid idea was it to walk? And why the hell did I decide to wear an absorbent dark blue shirt today? I'm only barely starting to sweat but it's getting highlighted on this shirt. Stupid Nike wardrobe!

Halfway back and I was ready to vomit. I'm sweating like a slob and I'm cramping up from walking while too full. There was a small bench next to one of the buildings I was walking by and it was in the shade so I decided to rest. Turns out that people here consider this part of the sidewalk their porch. An older lady named Angie came out to talk to me. She's retired and has lived there for almost 30 years. I told her my story and she laughed. She said she was proud of me for being committed, then told me to keep walking. I'm not sure if she was trying to encourage me to finish my journey or just telling me to get the fuck off her porch. Either way, I smiled, said thanks for the shade and kept walking.

By the time I got back to the hotel, I looked like I'd just ran a half marathon. I was completely drenched in sweat and was out of soda. My stomach didn't hurt as much so that was fine, but the doormen were laughing when I walked up and said, "Hot out there?" What am I going to say? I wanted to say "No you fucking pussies! Stop complaining about the heat!" Unfortunately, the sweat pouring down my face lead me to reply, "It's a little warm." When I got back to my room I downed a $500 bottle of water (or whatever they charge for it) and splashed water in my face to cool off and stop sweating.

Moral of the story? If I'd have just gone to Geno's I'd be fucking pissed at walking all the way down there for a half-ass sandwich. While going to Pat's may have made the trip back an exercise in endurance, I'm sitting here now thinking, "I'm going to have to go back tomorrow. That was a good fucking sandwich."