Homeward Bound

I've been planning a trip for this weekend. I'm going home. Not to where Mom and Dad live, not where I climbed on trees and skinned knees, but where I formed families of friends, where I developed and beat drug habits, where I broke bones and mended them myself, hundres of miles from Mother's soothing. Where I grew into a real person, became me. With Simon & Garfunkle narrating my journey in soft harmonies I'll head to the wilds of China town and hop a bus.

I'm excited and noervous. I've roped my very best New York friends into coming with me. I know that I'll have fun, because I have connections and history there. But I'm anxious about their time and what they'll take away from it. I feel like I'm hosting a party at someone else's house with someone else's mix tape. Its been a while since I've been home on a purely social call and what if the hot spots I used to help heat up are no longer hot? Oh right, its Philly. Nothing changes. That's kind of what's comforting about it. Plus, where ever me and my girls go, that IS the hot spot. Damn right.

I love the idea of being a tourist in your home town. Its so nice to go back and relive all of the dozens of awesome things in a hyper-condensed amount of time... and then its sooooo nice to leave. Its easy to rattle off a list of shit that's wrong with Philly, but being on such a whirl-wind tour, I'm going to focus on the gems that made it worth clinging to for the many years that I did. The coffee at Java is devine, but you'll not get a funner, quirkier experience than at Benna's. After all, Nancy IS the fucking mayor of 8th street. You'll have to wade through piled garbage at 6th and Washington but that's just what you'll do for the dingiest, most delicious noodle spot. There are so many fun bars and dance parties to go to on everysingle night the only lament is that you have to choose but one or two. Follow a ruckus night by brunch at Honey's, the time-tested hangover cure, and you'll be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by early afternoon and ready to settle into an extended evening at the darkest, cheapest dives with long-time missed friends. The lager will flow, the conversations will wind, and the quarters you spent on the jukebox will never produce your picks, but its ok, cause 'cause there's not a bad album in there.

I get a little anxious when I think of all the people I want to see, all the places I want to pop in, and the little time I have to do so, but I know that in all actuality Philly's a small town where you can't go anywhere without recognizing someone. I'm sure just getting from one place to another I'll run into more people than I care to. I'm kind of excited for this too.