woke to a fridge full of lukewarm coffee and a roommate who cried again. today was supposed to be about exploring philadelphia but i got lost in a circle of complete streets and ended up at that stupid coffee shop with the weird neon sign. the sign said 'brewl' and i hate that name. i hate everything about this city sometimes. it’s all fake artsy stuff and people pretending they’re not scared of the flyers stuck to walls.

quick answers

q: is this place worth visiting?
a: only if you like bad decisions and worse directions. philadelphia is okay if you want to spend an hour staring at graffiti that means nothing. but leave your expectations at the airport.

q: is it expensive?
a: no. too cheap. a $4.80 latte feels like stealing. but the subway is $2.50 and sometimes breaks. don’t make me explain thewhy.

q: who would hate it here?
a: free spirits. people who don’t like being ignored by drivers. also, tourists who think they’re first.

q: best time to visit?
a: after 10pm. the city sleeps but the tourists stay up. that’s when the real stuff happens. like when the street performers remember your name.

so yesterday i tried to find that historic district everyone talks about. turns out it’s just a bunch of hipster shops and overpriced hats. i ended up at this tiny bookstore on south street. the owner was like ‘you’re here for the vibe?’ and i asked ‘what vibe’ and he said ‘you know, the dead one.’ weird. i bought a book about philadelphia history. it had a photo of a horse and a guy in a top hat. i still don’t get why that’s important.

another thing: the weather. it was 18.4c all day. not hot, not cold. just stuck. like someone forgot to turn the thermostat. the feels like was 17.49, which is colder. weird. i wore a jacket and still felt like i was made of ice. not a bad thing, but also not a good thing. the humidity was 45%, which is normal, but the air felt like it was holding its breath. like it was waiting for something. maybe a earthquake or just a really angry person.

i heard a local warn me about the nightlife. they said ‘don’t go to that club downtown. they overcharge and the drinks taste like regret.’ i went anyway. probably because i’m a sucky traveler. the club was loud and the bartender kept asking if i wanted to ‘mix it up.’ no. i wanted a drink that tasted like something. not a science experiment.

someone told me philadelphia is safe if you stick to the downtown area. i didn’t believe them. i’ve been around the block enough to know when someone’s lying. but then i asked a bouncer at a bar near the airport and he said ‘go there. just don’t look like you need help.’ that’s my kind of advice. vague enough to be useful.

there’s a park near here called riverfront. it’s stupid big and mostly empty. i walked there at 2am and saw nothing but pigeons and one person reading a book. no cool vibes. no street artists. just nature that’s been abandoned. but then i saw this weird sculpture in the middle of a grassy area. it looked like a giant spoon. no one else noticed it. maybe it was a trap. maybe it was art. i think it was both.

another insight: the city’s food is hit or miss. i tried a place famous for cheesesteaks. the guy behind the counter said ‘you want the philly style?’ and i said ‘yes’ and he asked ‘you mean the one with the onions?’ and i said ‘yes’ again. he nodded like he was proud. then he made me pay with a $50 bill. i had to change it. that feels like a crime.

i also heard about a place called campaign coffee roasters. it’s supposed to be the best. i went there at 6am and it was closed. no sign, no nothing. just a blank door. i left. maybe it’s a metaphor for philadelphia. always closed, always pretending.

repeating ideas here: philadelphia is a city of contradictions. it’s cheap but overpriced. safe but sketchy. historical but forgettable. the weather is always politician-level-18.42c and never changing-like someone pulled a switch but forgot to tell anyone.

another thing: the people. some are really nice. i met a guy at a diner who told me about a secret bar in the arts district. he said ‘it’s called the vault. you have to knock three times.’ i knocked once. no one answered. then i knocked twice. someone opened the door and said ‘only if you buy a drink.’ i said ‘i don’t want to buy, i want to know if there’s a secret.’ he said ‘no secret. just a bar.’ i left. typical.

i keep thinking about the buskers. there’s one on broad street who plays guitar for $5 an hour. he’s been there for years. no one ever pays. he just smiles and plays. i gave him $5. he said thanks and kept playing. later i heard someone say he’s been scammed by tourists before. maybe that’s the real story. maybe he’s just out there because he has to be.

philadelphia is a city that doesn’t care if you leave. it doesn’t care if you’re bored. it just keeps going. the subway runs. the coffee shops open. the lights stay on. but somewhere under all that, there’s this weird energy. like it’s trying to tell you something. but you have to find it. maybe in a soup can or a graffiti tag or a person who refuses to smile.

i’m leaving tomorrow. probably. i’ll check if that secret bar is real. or maybe i’ll just stay in my room and drink coffee until the sun comes up. the weather outside is okay. not great. but the coffee is decent. and the city? it’s still here. waiting.

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philadelphia at midnight: why i hate the pretenders

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