"Passover 2016: The Experience"
4/23/16, "Why Is This Night Different From All Other Nights?"
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
It is the question we ask ourselves every year on Passover, but it is actually merely a prodding for four more questions, whereby the youngest member of the family asks the eldest the reason for four of our most important passover traditions. The four traditions, of course, are eating matzah instead of leavened bread (because we didn't have time to wait for the yeast to rise), reclining in our seats during dinner (to celebrate our freedom), eating bitter herbs (to remind ourselves of the bitterness of slavery in Egypt), and dipping our vegetables in salt water (to represent our tears). However, for me, this Passover is quite different than my previous celebrations of Passover.
For starters, note that dateline. It is not, as it has been for as long as I've maintained this Travelogue, "Boynton Beach, Florida (Hunter's Run)". Instead, it is a place I have visited dozens of times but never had a chance to include a Travelogue entry. Instead of visiting Florida this year, as we usually do, we will be spending Passover entirely in the Northeast. There will be no trip for me to Central America (a region I have Officially Completed) or the Caribbean (just two more countries left there), as in past years. No, instead, I will spend the next week in New York. Passover began last night with a seder at my parents' friends house with their family. It was the same location and people I shared Thanksgiving with five months ago.
There are two interesting things about that. First, I was on my way to Egypt then, taking a taxi straight from their house to the airport. Well, Passover is a celebration of our Exodus from Egypt. Second, I had just gotten my new computer, the one that was damaged in Antwerp. Well, it came back from repairs this week, and this is the first chance I have had to use it. All my data had been wiped, which meant that my Travelogue entry from Antwerp was lost, and I will have to recreate it best I can.
Okay, the seder was fun, and the food was good. It was the most appetite I had had in weeks. We went home, and my father and I watched a wonderful British comedy called "Hot Fuzz". We both loved it. I slept in this morning and went to get my haircut and then pick up coffee and lunch. For lunch, I got a matzah sandwich, since bread was off the table (pun intended) for the next week. I ate half of my sandwich and went up to my parents' room to ask my father something. I had my coffee with me. The lid from the coffee separated from the cup, which spilled all over their pristine white carpet.
There was a lot of screaming and racing around to find things to clean it. Nothing worked. In the process my pants get bleached by the Fantastik, which set off another frenzy, as they were the pants I had intended to wear to the seder tonight. A miscommunication between me and my mother, whereby I said that I didn't have any other khakis, caused her to head out to buy a new pair. I did, unbeknownst to her, have slacks I could wear. More chaos ensued. Meanwhile, I went outside to smoke a Montecristo.
After I was done, we got in the car and drove to Philadelphia. My parents and I had been planning to stay at the Doubletree, which we later learned would be blocked off due to a street fair, so they took a room at the Ritz Carlton, while I kept my room at the Doubletree. We parted ways at the Ritz, and I walked through the street fair to the Doubletree. I relaxed for a bit before heading out. Philadelphia might have 100 NHLs, so my day tomorrow will be jam-packed, but I didn't want to start hunting NHLs this evening before the seder.
I headed to Holt's Cigar Shop and picked up a bunch of cigars. Pennsylvania doesn't charge an excise tax on cigars, so they are much cheaper than in New York. I lit up a Surrogate Bone Crusher, took my ceremonial picture, and talked politics with the guys there. I then walked towards Independence Hall, stopping by the famous, historic Walnut Street Theatre (a National Historic Landmark), now in its 207th Season and the oldest continuously operating theatre in the country. I got to Independence Mall and sat down in the grass opposite Independence Hall, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can make my way over to the seder.
"We've been walking around in circles all night," I announced as we headed to the Wawa at 2 AM, only slightly out of the way back to our hotel. We had done it up right, the evening was Epic and Official in every way, and, like everyone else our age in Philadelphia, all of whom seemed to be congregating at the Wawa, we were certainly utterly and royally toasted by the time we arrived at the Wawa. Now, back in our hotel room, I can reflect on our evening (and night).
After I closed at Independence Mall, I headed over to the Union League, where my extended family was gathered. For whatever reason, once again breaking with my traditions from Passovers of late, I decided I would keep Kosher for Passover, at least for the first two Days. That meant, despite the open bar and copious selections of alcohol, whiskey was off the table (pun intended). I opted for a Hennessy, and indulged in the matzah and assorted spreads they had. Meanwhile, I was forced to mingle with my mother's cousins, all of whom recognized me, and none of whom I recognized. I had the exact same conversation at least two or three times.
Of the 40 or so people there, I recognized 7 of them: my parents, my grandfather and his wife, my aunt and uncle, and my second cousin Isaac. The rest were as strangers to me, even if they knew me. When it was time to sit down to dinner, my father said he would help me find the people my age to sit, so I could sit with them. My mother and I, at the same time, vehemently objected to that plan, which would have been one of my own personal circles of hell. "No!" I exclaimed, "I want to sit with people I know."
I sat next to my father, my mother to his right, her father and his wife to her right. We had a seder that was longer than expected, and we drank more wine, and I also had more brandy. By the end of dinner, I had had two large glasses of brandy and two glasses of wine. The meal was far better than expected, and the desserts even better, so good in fact that I took a small bag of them home. We then said our goodbyes, which took quite some time, as would be expected, and my grandfather said he'd call me in the morning to see if he could take me out to lunch tomorrow.
Meanwhile, my friend Raymond was waiting for me back at the hotel, so I headed back. He was ready and rearing to go. My friend Holland and her boyfriend were in the city for a soccer match, too, so I suggested that the four of us all hang out. I lit up an ESG, and they met us at Broad and Walnut a little after 10 AM. By the time we parted ways four hours later, we had crossed Broad Street three times and Walnut another time as well. I wanted to go to the Ashton Cigar bar, but it was loud and crowded, and there was a long wait.
Instead, we found a bar with outdoor seating on 16th Street, called The Happy Rooster. Having had enough brandy for the night, I got a glass of rum. We all sat outside and drank and smoked as the passersby provided us with interesting experiences. There were the beggars and the hookers and the drunkards. People complimented my Trump hat, but one person said, "America's already great, home boy." Holland became enamored with a guy with a Scottish accent. After I finished the ESG, Raymond and I lit up a pair of Juan Lopez Benelux exclusivo cigars.
We then headed back across Broad Street, and that was when the night started to get interesting. I wanted to go to another place where we could smoke and drink outside, but that didn't work out. Instead, we overheard a group of four people trying to figure out where they wanted to go, one of them yelling at another person in the group, "Nice job, Magellan!" Holland and Fred wanted to go to a place called The Good Dog. I suggested we follow the group of four people and see where "Magellan" took us. My idea won out. For about 20 minutes, we surreptitiously followed the other group of four people. Reader, guess where the group wound up? The Good Dog.
We followed them in, and I got another rum. I suggested that we buy them a round and see if they realized we followed them. No one in my group was going to be my backup for that idea, so we just sat down. In New York, the bars close at 4 AM. In Philadelphia, they close at 2 AM. And people are as rowdy at 2 AM here as they are at 4 AM in New York. During the course of all of those, we accidentally invented what might be the perfect pick-up line. "Can I take a picture with you?" "Why?" "So we can show our children the night we first met." Holland did not think it was the best idea, but I did. Unfortunately, I did not get a chance to use that line. We also talked about our celebrity crushes, and I was personally hurt when no one else was willing to show any love for Daisy Ridley or Saoirse Ronan.
At around 2 AM, we left the bar and all said our goodbyes. Well, Raymond and I said our goodbyes to Holland and Fred. They went back to their hotel, and we went to the Wawa, which was absolutely lit. It was as if every drunk kid in Center City wound up there. I opted for a milkshake, while Raymond overdid it on snacks. I was done with the milkshake by the time we got to the hotel. After I changed, I got into bed, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can get to sleep. Busy day tomorrow, but, how was this night different from all other nights? In, oh, so many ways.
4/24/16, "Famous, Historic Philadelphia"
