I'm Pam Newman.
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I'm a writer of aricles, poems & songs. Here's some cool stuff I wrote.
I want to begin my preliminary recount of my trip from Louisville to Philadelphia with a big ol’ fuck you to US Airlines.
It merely validated something I already knew, and I’ll get into deeper detail later in this post: It’s far better to be a black woman in Philadelphia than it is in Louisville.
Anyway, yeah. Fuck US Air.
Okay, now that I’ve got that out of the way, I have to say that this trip has also altered my perception of Greyhound. For the past 11 or 12 years, I’ve been talking about one of my worst travel experiences ever— it involved barefoot children, vehicular homicide, vomiting in a southwestern themed toilet and an allergic reaction to the AIR in Los Angeles so violent that I thought I was going to die. Basically I had a shitty, uncomfortable time riding greyhound from Philadelphia to LA, and I talk about it whenever someone is trying to decide if taking Greyhound is the best choice.
Well, I renege my previous statements of loathing and “NEVER AGAIN!” to replace them with apathy and “It’s less disrespectful than flying for what you pay.”
No full-body scans, or threats of being violated for having brown skin. No huge airports to jog through in order to catch the connecting flight! And most of all, Greyhound was nice to me when I cried about having lost my ticket. (This is the most irresponsible trip I’ve ever taken in all my years of independent travel)
So… anyway. I got to philly 3 days later than I was supposed to (Read back in my archives for the post about how I fucked up so badly that it was a work of art) and got to see my Best Friend, who I’ve known since we were 13. Being friends with her is something I know I’ll list off as my favorite accomplishments when I’m on my deathbed, coughing up organs or whatever.
What can I say, I’m a romantic.
Anyway, she’s my bestie, and December 7th was her birthday, December 8th was her girlfriend’s birthday, as well as the birthday of another mutual friend named Ashely. So we partied like crazed, liquor hungry kittens, freed from our kennels in search of the Philly’s hottest dance club.
We actually went to karaoke on Friday, where I played designated driver and ensured that all the drunken saggitarians got home safely. At karaoke, we met the most crass, mean-mugging, and strict Karaoke DJ I’ve ever encountered. And if you know anything about me, know this. I have been going to karaoke since well before I was old enough to drink, even before I ENJOYED drinking. I know a thing or two about how Karaoke ought to work.
This dude was being a dick to us… when there were at least 2 birthdays going on. He was giving unsound preference to these maybe-20 year old girls with big boobies from New Jersey. And I appreciate great NJ Boobs as much as the next person, but BIRTHDAYS TRUMP TITTIES ALWAYS. That is the rule. You can still flirt with the owners of the boobs, but you take care of the birthday people first and foremost.
This guy didn’t get that, so I was able to put on my Native Philadelphian hat, and told him that I wasn’t taking his shit two or three times. This didn’t stop him from ignoring my best friend’s brother and his request to delight us all with a rendition of Jay Z. That’s cool though, motherfucker. I’m going to snitch on your ass.
Don’t fuck with community organizers, is all I’m saying.
Then the following evening, we enjoyed pizza and such followed by a trip out to the Trestle Inn, which is a shitty looking dive on Callohill which I ALWAYS ASSUMED was hood as fuck. Apparently it’s hipster as fuck insde. They wanted 4 dollars for a 12 ounce can of Yuengling.
Needless to say, we left that overcrowded fuckery and went to the club that once was Pure.
WE DANCED SO HARD MOTHERFUCKERS WANTED TO FINE US.
But not really. We didn’t pay to get in because BFF’s girlfriend was on the list. She was also friends with people behind the bar so we got CHEAP DRINKS.
So we all got shitty and danced for 4 hours. It was awesome.
I had a revelation that most people in Kentucky don’t know how to appropriately appreciate my brand of gorgeous (I always thought my beauty was a universal truth). Everyone wanted to dance with me, and I feel like people of every race appreciated my sexy moves and my adorable face.
Eat that Kentucky.
Anyways, I had a great time, and at this point I’m rambiling, but one last thing:
GREYHOUND HAS FREE WIFI AND CHARGING STATIONS FOR YOUR ELECTRONICS.
AT HALF THE PRICE OF A FLIGHT (and it’ll take you 4x as long to get there, but you know, weigh your options, people)
Well, a great 9 days.
I got the hell out of Kentucky for a while and took myself on a munchies tour of Philadelphia. This included:
- A cheesesteak from a truck
- Fried things from Reading Terminal Market
- Milk tea and sweet buns from Chinatown
- Chicken wings from a Chinese store
- Pizza and hot wings delivered by a local pizza shop
- A freezie
- A Mr Softie ice cream cone
- Other delicious things I can’t remember right now
I also connected with my best friend and potentially made history at the continental congress 2.0. I debated with libertarians, frustrated a tea partier and ate dinner with the Occupy National Gathering. I marched twice, had a nice conversation with a policeman from the Philadelphia Community Relations department (LOL? That’s a thing?) and walked up more stairs in 2 days than I have in 3 months.
I also ate lunch with Sister Mary Martha! I saw Laryn Hill at the 4th of July thingy and won a chococat plushie at Dorney Park.
I didn’t get in the ocean ALL THIS SUMMER. :-(
I haven’t been to New York since 2009. That is far too long. I haven’t been in Philly for more than a weekend since Christmas 2009.
I yearn for you, east coast. I ache for your not-fuck-giving, greasy food, fast talking and neighborhood stores that stay open past 8pm.
I need Wawa for breakfast, a food truck for lunch and a Yuengling with dinner.