It’s going to take a few days to get my voice back, but this is one of those rare times where that’s totally and completely okay.
Originally, I was going to Philadelphia to look at a few apartments for myself and another girl in the program I’m starting in two months (!), but on the way there, Stefan convinced me to look into something by myself first. I would have looked at the apartments anyway, but instead of taking three hours to get from Lindenhurst to Philadelphia, it took five. It would have taken closer to six if I didn’t cut through the divider to the service road that was moving quite nicely. (Oh, and for the record, they actually closed the Jersey Turnpike-twice-for no reason. Just kicked everyone off in two separate locations. Nothing going on in between. Fucking Jersey.) Anyway, I canceled one appointment, and told the other guy that I’d call him when I got there since he lived near enough to just swing by. I made the decision not to call after checking out the street and outside of the building. I’m still tossing back and forth between having a/several roommates and living alone. I’d like the privacy, but I’d also like the camaraderie that every other college student ever has had (except me). I guess I’ll check out studios and see if it might be worth it, then make a decision.
Since we were in Manayunk, we decided to stroll through the Manayunk Arts Festival, where I “oohed” and “ahhed” and Stefan came up with ideas for leather, glass, wood and metal work. Quote of the event for me was “I need a cooling station,” which almost tied with “Ooh! Puppy!” There was definitely some interesting stuff there, and I’m still thinking about finding this one red painting that I really loved. I didn’t take a picture of it, but I should have. Instead, I took this for Jenny (panda lover):
we headed back to the car and drove through Center City to get cheesesteaks from Pat’s (NOT Geno’s). I should have asked someone, but my main concern there was the number of Phillies garb donned on a majority of the patrons at both vendors. I concluded, and hopefully was correct, that these people had recently gotten out of a Phillies game (and my phone conveniently told me that they had played, and had lost as well. I snickered…quietly…to myself). I’m thinking of keeping a log of the cheesesteaks I encounter from this one to the time I pick a favorite. Maybe it’ll be the first thing I write in my new little Moleskin. 🙂 I’m just not sure how to rate them. I mean, they’ll ultimately be relative to one another. Ah, well, I’ll think of something.
We ventured back to NY after that, full of cheesesteaky goodness. The story itself is rather boring if you’re not me, but I want to remember this moment, so I’m going to write “Whispering Woods Rd.” here so that hopefully I don’t forget. Now, back to our regularly scheduled blogging.
I’m not entirely sure how we wound up in Coney Island, but we did. For a Cyclone ride and some Nathan’s (because the day was obviously then also about good food in addition to good art and good times). I’ll admit, I was rather scared of the roller coaster. Even though I’d been on it before, under the same exact conditions, save for the big beer I had the first time around. Fortunately, I wasn’t forced to sit in the front car, but I don’t know if I can escape that forever. However unlikely, we’re going to try to go back often before the summer’s out and I move.
While on line at the Nathan’s, somehow cheesesteaks get mentioned and a guy near us on line says, “You go to Pat’s?” Stunned, we got into a conversation about how we had just come from there earlier. I guess that means we picked a pretty good starter spot for Linda’s Adventures in Cheesesteaks.
Before getting back to the car, we wandered through what can only be described as a Stoner’s Market. Apparently, Further, Phil Lesh and Bob Weir played a concert at MCU Park and their hippie followers set up shop and camp in the parking lot. I have never experienced anything like it, and, unless I start smoking massive amounts of weed, I don’t know that I would ever feel comfortable there. I hear the Fruity Pebble ganja treats are good, though. Just sayin’.
Seeing as I wasn’t 100% sure how to get back to the Belt Parkway from Coney Island, I accidentally wound up somewhere I did know-blocks from 86th Street. No matter how much food we had eaten, no matter how greasy and fattening and terrible for us all of it had been, there was absolutely no way I wasn’t stopping at L & B’s for a square. (And since I had their number in my phone–a minor mundane detail about me that Stefan found particularly amazing, though why, I still don’t understand–I called earlier to find that they were open until 1 a.m. and therefore our 12:15 a.m. arrival was a-ok.)
We got back to Lindenhurst around 1 in the morning and split to shower. But I went back to Stefan’s, watched most of Jaws, and fell into a peaceful, content sleep. I’m not sure I’ve ever had that awesome of a day. All of these things I would normally have done alone (okay, I probably wouldn’t have been watching Jaws), I did with someone who not only also liked them, but appreciated them. If I thought I could have captured the excitement on Stefan’s face waiting for the Cyclone, I would have taken a picture and hung it on my wall. As he put it later, I “felt like the man.” But I also felt like there was someone else out there like me. This is a rare occurrence and I’ll take it for as long as I can get it, to be honest.
But for now, instead of continuing to swoon, I really need to focus on some homework. I can resume full swoon later; I just never want to take a break from it. ❤