“Roberto in
Philly”
6/5/16,
“Independence”
Philadelphia,
Pennsylvania
When I met
up with Roberto in Mexico this January, and he guided me through the Yucatan, I
told him I’d be glad to return the favor any time he wanted to come to the East
Coast of the United States. New York,
Philadelphia, Boston, Washington, wherever he wanted to go, I’d be his
guide. For him, Philadelphia was the
biggest draw, but only for one reason: Independence Hall. See, Roberto is as big of a World Heritage
Site hunter as I am, and Independence Hall is, of course, a World Heritage
Site. We have the Statue of Liberty in
New York, and Boston and Washington are lacking any such sites. He had been to New York once before and had
already seen the Statue of Liberty, but he wanted to return to New York.
I told him that we could spend a weekend in
Philadelphia, and I would host him in New York during the week. The timing that worked best for both of us
was this, his epic adventure to the East Coast sandwiched right between my epic
adventures to Greece and Britain. He
arrived in New York less than 24 hours after I had fully adjusted back to New
York time from Athens time, and he will still be in New York when I depart for
London. My trip to Britain will be
another adventure, as have all of my trips to Britain, but, for now, it is
about Roberto’s adventure that I wish to write.
As does any trip, it properly starts with Day 0. I wanted to show him a proper welcome to New
York, and I did. A few of my friends met
us at a rooftop bar, where we had our first two rounds, along with some
cigars. Two of the friends were a
couple, but, other than them, no one else in the group (besides me) knew each
other, so it was great to see everyone bond so well. We then headed to St. Mark’s Place to keep
the party going, and we wound up at a rum bar on Avenue A. That was pretty epic as well.
We said our goodbyes and raced back to Grand
Central, where another friend was awaiting us on the train, as we were all
going to Philly in the morning and had to depart from Westchester. We had to stop at my apartment as well to get
some stuff. It was a close call, and I
forgot a few things, but we made the train by one minute. I finished my Flor del Antilles when I got
home, watching Scooby Doo, of all things, on my VR, my new toy.
We overslept in the morning and took way too
long getting out of the house, but it was fine.
We had no schedule today, and Philadelphia was not far. We talked with my parents and drank coffee
before my mom took us to the car rental place, stopping for breakfast on the
way. We got to the car rental place, and
they gave us an SUV. Before we got on
the road, I realized that I had forgotten my cigars and my phone charger, so it
was back to my parents’ house.
It was
about 11 AM by the time we finally got on the road, and I lit up my traditional
Davidoff Escurio Toro, as I blared Red with all the windows open. We continued to Philly as I cycled through my
library of Disney soundtracks. We were
soon at Pat’s King of Steaks. Declaring
it a cheat day, I allowed myself a full sandwich, promising myself to be good
on carbs at dinner (spoiler alert: I wasn’t).
After our sandwiches, I lit up an OpusX, and we headed back to the
car. We then continued to Independence
Hall, finding a great parking spot right behind the mall.
Our first stop was to take a ceremonial
picture in front of the building. We
then headed to the VC. It was about 3 PM
at this point, and we learned that there were no more tickets available for the
day. However, we learned that an express
tour was offered after 5 PM with no tickets required. We had a 7 PM dinner reservation, so, while
we had plenty of time before Independence Hall, timing might be tight before
dinner, especially since I wanted to go to the hotel change first.
We went first to the Liberty Bell, then Old
City Hall, then the Declaration House.
Shit. That was the spot where
good old TJ wrote the damn thing. It was
newly renovated and open to the public.
Afterwards, we sat in the back plaza of the house and I produced a
3-pack of Montecristo Open Eagles. We
lit them up and enjoyed them before heading back to the car to feed the
meter. We took another ceremonial
picture in front of Independence Hall and finished our cigars on the benches in
the shade of the square.
It was then
time to head into Independence Hall.
There was a long line, and timing no longer looked tight, but rather
unworkable. I also realized that the
Plaque would not be visible during the express tour that was offered
after-hours. One thing led to another,
and a Park Ranger told us that he could just let us into the side area to view
the Plaque. I said that Roberto had come
all the way from Mexico to see that Plaque, which was actually very true. Roberto was very happy to see the Plaque, and
we took all of our ceremonial pictures, getting back to the line right before they
let us in.
We were soon at the Congress
chamber, and the guide said it was possibly the most important room in the
world. I could not disagree. Reader, what single room in the world is
possibly more important than that one? Not
only was that where we declared our independence, it was also where we worked
out the kinks of our Constitution. What
other room comes close? Some room in the
Vatican maybe? The House of Commons at
Westminster Palace? I would have to see
this wins. I had trouble fighting back
the tears as I stood in this room, even though it was not the first time I had
been there.
We then went back to the VC
to get our souvenirs, and I realized it was ridiculous to go all the back to
the hotel and back before dinner. We
could just change in the car, and we did just that. I literally changed my pants sitting in the
spacious back area of the SUV. Connor
drove us to the restaurant, and he fell in love with the car. We got a little disoriented, but we wound up
finding a parking spot right by the restaurant (Butcher & Singer).
When we got to the restaurant, I asked for
Alvin Block and was led right to his table.
“Mr. Block” is practically a fixture of that restaurant. He has dined there over a hundred times. That is not an exaggeration. Every member of the staff knows and loves “Mr.
Block”. Missing was his wife, who got
called away due to a fashion show, which was fine, since we were able to
discuss more freely certain, um, topics we could not discuss if she was
there. Halfway through our meal, one of
the hostesses came up to him and announced, “Mr. Block, you have a call from
your wife.” It seemed like a scene out
of a movie.
Everyone got along great,
and my friends were as has glad to meet him as he was gracious to host us. Butcher & Singer is one of the best
restaurants in the city, and we had a veritable feast. I ate far more than I wanted to, my
grandfather constantly making sure we had enough to eat. There was no concern in that regard. I had whiskey, bread and butter (in an almost
1:1 ratio), a thick slab of bacon, wine, and steak with hash browns and mushrooms
and onions. I was in no danger of
leaving that place hungry. In fact, I
did not expect to be hungry for breakfast.
If that was not enough, my grandfather insisted we get dessert. I suggested we get a piece of cheesecake to
share, but my grandfather said we’d probably need a second dessert as well, so
I picked out the coconut cake, along with a cappuccino. We split the desserts three ways, my
grandfather not being able to indulge.
As I said, it was a veritable feast.
I vowed not to have a single carb after that until I left for London,
but then I learned there was a Federal Donuts a block away from our hotel. Well, starting after the donuts, not a single
carb until I leave for London. We said
our goodbyes, and Connor drove us to the hotel.
I sat in the back and lit up a Juan Lopez, it only appropriate to cap
off such a good meal with such a good cigar.
When we got to the hotel, I asked the valet where I could keep my cigar
while I checked in, and he kept it on a shelf in the vestibule. I had been to this hotel in, I think, 2005,
when I was exploring colleges. If I had
not gone to NYU, I would have either gone here or to Princeton. Just as the trip that proceeded this one and
the two that will follow, I am reliving past trips and staying at the same
hotels where I previously stayed. It is
a nice trip down memory lane. I had
sworn I had booked a hotel with two beds, so when we got up to our suite, I was
glad to see there was also a couch, so it seemed everyone would have their own
bed. Well, it turned out there was only
one bed. I claimed the bed, having paid
for the hotel room, and told my friends to figure out the remaining sleeping
solution.
They were able to procure a
rollaway bed, and I went downstairs to finish my cigar. I found a nice bench, where I sat down and
proceeded to write this entry, which I will now close so that I can publish and
go to sleep, unless we decide to go out for some more adventures, but I expect
the rest of my party to be asleep or at least in bed when I get up there. It is not yet even 11 PM, but that meal took
a lot out of us.
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