New York, New York - It's A Hell Of A Town

I know it's been a while since I've put up a big meaty post, but the days of sitting around with long stretches of time on my hands are long gone. It's the East Coast, baby, where life moves at a thousand miles an hour and if you stop to catch your breath it's gonna pass you by. D.C., Philly, New York - there's just so much to do that I've been packing every minute with touristy goodness and then coming back to whatever place I'm calling home that night and crashing. Plus, I've been actually seeing and staying with people I know, and it's kind of rude to excuse yourself to go write a blog. But this pace is tough to maintain, and finally tonight it's all caught up with me. It's 9pm, I'm sitting in mid-town Manhattan, and while I should be out partying, I can barely lift my fingers enough to type. But I know the public craves fresh posts (and by public, I mean my parents), and who am I to disappoint?

I spent most of last week driving around central southern Pennsylvania, Amish country and Gettysburg to be precise. The first interesting thing I learned is that the Pennsylvania Dutch aren't Dutch at all, they're German. When they first came here, they said they were "Deutsch," which is German for German, and the new settlers thought they said "Dutch," and it stuck. So for hundreds of years, these people who are really German have been called Dutch. This is just one of a long list of examples of Americans taking a culture and completely redefining because of our own ignorance. What a country!

And speaking of culture, the Amish are crazy. But in a good way, a way I can respect. Being among them, it was the first time on this trip I really felt I was experiencing something totally different than anything I had ever seen before. What I've found so far on my journey is that as Americans, we're pretty much all the same. Sure, we eat different foods in different places and some of us have unique accents, but for the most part we all look alike and think alike and act alike. Ghettos in Alabama look similar to ghettos in California, malls in Spokane look just like malls in Atlanta, and a roadside dinner in Delaware is just like a roadside dinner in Arizona. But the Amish aren't like anything else I've seen. They way they live, dress, act, and speak is all theirs, despite the fact they live among all us "normal" people. A common misconception is that they're walled off, unexposed to society, but nothing could be further from the truth. They work among everyone else, drive along the same roads, and shop in the same stores. And the fact that they've been able to hold onto their unique identity while being immersed in our fucked up society is a testament to deep foundation of their beliefs. Because if nothing else, American culture is best at hitting you over the head with the message of conformity. Dress like this, eat here, drive this, and everyone will accept you. But the Amish have managed not to buy in, and I respect that.

Now, an astute observer to this blog might ask themself "Why do the Amish get respect from you when you blasted the Mormons for being creepy and cultlike? Aren't they both weird religious sects deserving of your scorn?" Good question, with a simple answer. It wasn't that I disliked the Mormon's for what they believed, it's the fact they try so hard to get you to believe what they believe. The Amish couldn't give a fuck about you. They do their shit, and if you want to buy in, that's cool, but otherwise they're going to leave you the fuck alone. And they just want to be left the fuck alone. There's a very similar parallel with Jews and Christians, in that Christians proselytize and convert, whereas Jews don't really need you. I mean, six million of our people were killed, but did we once try to go out and recruit in order to build our numbers back up? Nope. So while I think what the Amish believe in might be a little whacked out, there's still a sense of solidarity there. Peace to my Amish brothas. And by the way, Amish women have big hairy man feet. I guess it comes from generations of hard manual labor, and it's kinda gross.

In Philly I met up with my friend Danielle, and since she grew up there, she was my defacto tour guidess. We went to Betsy Ross' house, Ben Frankiln's house, and Independence Hall, and then we took a ride on a Duck Tour. For those unfamiliar, Duck Tours exist in several major cities around the country, and they take you on converted military vehicles that have the ability to drive around on land and then plunge right into the water to float around like a boat. This company bought a bunch of these vehicles and converted them into tour mobiles in cities that have land and water points of interest. It drives you around Philly, pointing out sights like South Street and the Liberty Bell, and then you motor straight into the Delaware to view the city by water. It's a fun and unique tour with well trained, informative, and funny guides, and it's a good way to be a tourist. The only bad part it that the tour never stops, so if you see a sight that you'd like to walk around, you have to go back there on your own.

A great day in the Birthplace of Freedom was topped off by what was one of the best pizzas I've ever had at a place called Tacconelli's. You have to call for a reservation, and you're not so much reserving a table as your are your pizza dough. You have tell them in advance how many pies you're gonna want, and along with non-alcoholic drinks, that's all they serve. Literally. The family next to us brought their own salad and bowls. If you didn't reserve a dough, but you're feeling extra hungry, you might get lucky if they have an extra lying around, but don't count on it. Danielle and I, being two hungry people, easily polished off one pie (8 thin, smallish slices of pure heaven), and we probably could have gone for another had the first one not taken an hour(!) to arrive. After dinner, we got to hang in the kitchen for a bit and see the brick oven that's been baking goodness since the 1910's. There's one guy that makes all the pies, and one door to the oven, and when one pie comes out another goes in. That's why it takes so long, but it's definitely worth the wait.

Sunday I started making my way from Philly towards New York. Robin Goldstein, of Schnauzer Logic fame, was in the Hudson River Valley cleaning out her mom's house, and we met up for a nice dinner. Being the unprepared slacker I am, I didn't secure a campsite in the area for that night, and by the time I stared calling around they were all closed. Robin graciously offered for me to stay in the driveway, which I did, and at 5am the next morning I woke up like a kid going to Disneyland - I was on my way to New York City.

Now, sometimes on a trip like this you get really lucky (winning hundreds of dollars playing poker hours before I left Vegas for the second time) and you get really unlucky (torrential rain in D.C. closing half the shit I wanted to see). The gods must have been smiling on me this time, because I scored my own New York apartment. My mom's best friend's cousin lives in New Jersey and works in Manhattan. He apparently is pretty good at what he does, because he's able to afford a New York apartment in addition to the Jersey house. He was going away on business and had no problem letting me stay at his place during this leg of the trip. Park Ave. and 35, baby.

So I've been in New York for three days, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't amazing. I've found on this trip that few things live up to their reputation, but New York isn't in that category. I could see myself living here, as long as they got rid of the rain/heat/humidity we're currently experiencing. Oh, and probably the snow, too. Make it Fall or April all year round and I'm there. And maybe lower the cost of living. A few small requests.

I'll write more about my actual excursions in the city, but I'm literally about to fall aslezzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz