Torn between two cultures (September '06)

This past weekend, I made a trip up to South Philly to see one of my best friends and to catch a Doug Stanhope show in the process.

Philly was quite an experience. As some of you may know I went to a college in central PA, so I am not entirely unfamiliar with South Philly culture.

I remember visiting the area in the mid nineties and being assaulted by Eagles Starter jackets, hemmed jean shorts, white high tops, rayon shirts, and an general aura of belligerent dissatisfaction.

Ten years alter, I made my return trip to the exact same area. My friend Tommy had grown and changed since last I saw him.

As for South Philly? Well, I suppose that it will suffice to say that I saw Eagles Starter jackets, hemmed jean shorts, white high tops, rayon shirts, and a general aura of belligerent dissatisfaction.

While in Philly, I caught Doug Stanhope with Lynn Shawcroft, Norm Wilkerson, and a local opener. As expected, I loved the whole set, despite the fact that Doug compared me to a football Hooligan, (I was wearing my Arsenal Jersey) and suggested that I looked like the type who would "kick-f*@%" a girl with cerebral palsy (I assure you, I wouldn't kick her in any way.)

I grew up in a college town in RI, and despite the fact that I am partially Southern by birth and by heritage, I generally assumed an air of Yankee superiority.

Living in GA is both shocking and disturbing, bit I had essentially moved past all of that--until this weekend.

Watching all of the sad, bitter, not-so-very-attractive people populating the bars and clubs of South Philly had me all but ready to claim Atlanta as my homeland.

Almost.

As you might have guessed by now, I was struck with a consciousness-altering experience just prior to leaving Philadelphia. An experience that may have forever colored my view of the mid-Atlantic.

Just before leaving the City of Grudging Tolerance, I stopped for lunch at a chain barbecue restaurant. Famous Dave's, to be exact.

This "Barbecue" joint had no Brunswick stew. In fact, they had never even heard of such a thing. Collard greens? Not even on the menu. Hot pepper vinegar? Please... The sauce on the ribs? Not Mustard-based, not vinegar based...ketchup based. Yes, I said it. Ketchup based.

So now I sit here, typing to you as a man without a home...

Southern culture? Too much NASCAR, thanks. Northern culture? I'm not sure I want to live in a place where ketchup is an actual food group.

I guess when all is said and done, the West coast just looks better and better...

I think I'm gonna cry.