Queen Village, the area right off South St and before South Philly becomes really South Philly, is the third neighborhood I've lived in since moving to Philly four years ago this past August. Where Fairmount felt like Brooklyn and Northern Liberties a hipster version of Baltimore- Queen Village feels the most like Philadelphia.
A lot of the streets are horse streets- still made of cobblestone and barely wide enough for a sensible sedan, such as the Corollacoaster, to get through. These sedans though, they definitely don't have rough & tough tires. Not like the Blazer and if they're anything, they are the weak, younger brother of the tires on MSI Truck 7. It's changed the way I live my life.
But then again, so has living in Queen Village. In a roundabout way, I'm a resident of Pennsylvania- something that only took four years to get done. The hardest part was changing license plates. I had always thought less of Pennsylvania for being one of the first states that I can remember, rocking their website on the plate. It makes me miss a wildlife-influenced license plate. I want animals, not websites. But despite that angst, I've officially moved from the only real address I've ever had since I was six. I am still an organ donor, I guess now I just give my organs to people from another state. After two weeks, I mailed in the voter registration form. I could have registered at the DMV, but the process had been so painless, that I wanted to quit while I was ahead. It felt good registering. Then bad, because I feel I'm too cynical to believe in democracy. But then I felt good again- but that's just because when driving a fancy, black sports car like the Corollacoaster, you just randomly feel good about yourself.
Today there was a flea market at 3rd and Pine and it went around the entire block and the large church at the center of it. At some of the tables, the flea marketers were more interesting than their goods. Many of the tables filled extra space with shoe boxes of CD's or DVD's and I don't agree with letting one vendor sell pocket knives next to Eagles jerseys, because you're just encouraging someone to do some damage. I had ten bucks in my pocket; said that if I saw anything under ten bucks that I liked, I'd buy it.
The ten bucks was spent on wine; a bottle for a date night with the ladyfriend tomorrow night.
Of course there is South Street and that place is as cheesy now as it was once allegedly hip. It's hard to imagine the Roots starting off, playing on the sidewalk of South Street now. There aren't many places I'd go to on South Street, but we did go to the TLA the other night to see Rogue Wave. The rain and winds kept the street quiet, making it a nice little walk home. The outside seating at Bridget Foy's are the luxury boxes when it comes to the sport of people watching, right at the intersection of 2nd and South. It's both the entrance and the exit to the exotic wonders of South Street- creating a constant ebb & flow of freaks, tourists, nerds, hooks, tools, toolboxes, blow-outs, fade-aways, lacklusters, bikers, skaters, jokesters, tricks and hicks. Sitting back and watching, with a Bloody Mary, is as close as a sure bet there is these days when it comes to grabbing a drink successfully.
O'Neals will be my favorite bar. It will be my go-to spot for happy hours because theirs is breath-taking and it will be a good spot to catch any sport sometime, as they have more TV's hanging than they do posters or beer advertisements. On the first snow day last year, the Good snow day- Kimalicious & I went there as the first stop in our epic journey to Olde City and back. And this year, on that first snow day again- regardless of the severity, O'Neals is the bar Kimmy Bombs and I will go too.
Although the Dark Horse is pretty goddamn exciting as well.
It'd probably be determined by paper, rock, scissors. Best two out of three.
In a world of prioritizing problems, this would be one that wouldn't be too hard to handle.
Go Phillies. Go Phillies' games drink specials. Go fall.