City of Brotherly Love

I wasn’t even 100 percent sure I wanted to go to the party.I was content drinking my Presidente while lounging on the couch.But, it was Saturday night,And we were in the heart of Philadelphia.The party was on South Street,And we decided to walk.It was a humid night in late summer and my friend, a shy no-nonsense type of guy,Didn’t say a word the entire walk.It took a lot longer than we originally expected,But there was a light breeze,And I was enjoying walking down from 20th street to 8th street,It brought back a lot of old memories.I had been to the house before but couldn’t remember the address;My friend grew more irritated,He was uncomfortable in his surroundings, tired,And was really killing my buzz.I noticed a group of people waiting outside and realized that this indeed was the house.Out of nowhere another one of my friends showed up and he was drunk,His girlfriend stumbled over too and there were about ten of us waiting to go inside.The seven or so strangers were from France and they hardly spoke English.We were finally buzzed in but the house was empty; everyone was partying on the ‘roofdeck’. I grabbed a lager from the fridge and made my way to the roof.There seemed to be about fifty or so people on the deck, and we were segregated.40 people from France on one side of the roof, and us ten Americans on the other.There was a beautiful view of the Philadelphia skyline, and a table full of liquorSurrounded by a group of ten beautiful girls speaking French.I was a happy guy.I decided to break the barrier and started talking to a few of the girls.All the liquor was cheap, plastic bottle, hand-me down liquor,And I talked to a girl about how she did not like America becauseShe was bored. You only have to be 19 to go to clubs in France, she was 20, and couldn’t get into any clubs here. I explained that there was a lot to do and a lot to see and thatEach state was different. (she was extremely naive)She nodded and said she really liked New York,But that she missed her family and was excited to go home.I found out that it was a farewell party for a guy named David.He had been living in America for six months (a semester)And was heading back to France in a few days.He was starting to get real emotional and it took me backTo my semester in Prague a few years ago.When I saw a lot of people who I had grown to loveFor the last time.We were drinking very heavily and soon my ten American friendsWere mixed with all the French kids.There were genuine conversations About politics, religion, and life in general.But, we mostly just wanted to get inside their pants.I was still talking to the 20 year old,I couldn’t recall her name,And she was getting noticeably intoxicatedAs she told me all about how she hadn’t been with any American guys yet.She wanted to try a Yuengling (the lager I was drinking)And I went downstairs to fetch her one.When I came back she had already found some other people to Talk to, so I just gave her the beer, winked, and walked away.A few hours later she was on the roof next door puking her guts out.I think I agree with the drinking age at 21.I told my friend as we continued to drinkAnd speak broken English to the French girls.Time went by fast and I was getting to know an older girlPretty well when I noticed that all of my friends had disappeared.This happens to me all the time, I’m a loner, a dreamer, and a non-believer.The few people who were left were all getting obnoxious and I was on There level.We were laughing, smoking, hugging, chanting,And soon we made our way inside.I was snuggling with my girl when I looked at the clock and saw that it was 4 am.She fell asleep in my arms,So, I wrote her a little note and sneaked out the back door.I was wasted and knew that I should find a cab ride home.I got in the cab but couldn’t remember the address of the apartment I was supposed to sleep at. (too much reefer)I told the cabbie it was on 23rd and KathrynWhich was wrong (it was 20th and another street that starts with a C)I fell asleep almost as soon as I got in the cab.And woke up to the cabbie screaming at meUrging me to tell him where to drop me off.I looked out the window and saw it was 23rd street and knew I could find the apartmentOn foot. So, I paid the cabbie and looked at the Street sign, hoping for an answer.I’ve always been the type of person who remembers landmarks and not exact addresses.I stumbled down the street looking for something familiar.The night was starting to turn to day and the streets were silent.I was walking around in circles and starting to get sober.I had been walking for about twenty minutes when fiveYoung kids appeared out of nowhere.They couldn’t have been older then sixteen and their fearless leader put a gun to my head. The metal was all rusted and the gun looked old and I doubt that it had any bullets in it.He urged me to empty my pockets and put the gun inside my mouth.It tasted like concrete.I’m not sure who was more scared, me or the shooter.He was tall and lanky, his arm shook as he tried to intimidate me with the pistol.I looked into his eyes and realized he was just a dumb kid.He might shoot me just to show off in front of his friends.The cab ride basically took all my money, I might’ve had ten dollars.I gave it to him; I also gave him my money clip that held all of my identification and bank cards. I gave him my cell phone. I told him that that was all I had and beggedFor my life.He didn’t lower the gun. He counted the money, looked at my fancy phone,Then looked at his shorter friend who must’ve been calling all the shots.I didn’t say a word, I was suddenly stone cold sober.One of the kids in the back screamed for them to shoot me, but he continued To just hold the gun in my mouth.The gun rattled against my teeth as his arm shook,The shorter kid said I wasn’t worth it, andThey all took off running in the different direction.I was suddenly alone again. I had gained my wits and realized the house was on 20th streetAnd it took me a very short time to go from the scene of the crimeTo the front door of my friends house.Of course all the doors were locked and everyone was asleep.I rang the doorbell,Then sat on the front step Cursing at myself for being so stupid.I rang the bell a few more times and was let in by my friend who had a goofy grin on his face. I was white as a ghost and the same friend who I walked with earlierAsked me what was wrong.There were about five people still awake, drinking beers, playing cards.I told them the story and they shook their collective head in disbelief.Everyone had an answer.They told me to call the cops, they told me to cancel my credit cards, they told meThat I was a fucking idiot for walking around by myself in that neighborhood at 5 am. I told them that I just wanted to go to sleep.In the morning I woke up on the couch and the parents of the twins who lived in the house we were atWere knocking on the door.They complimented the house and we all had breakfast.I tried to pretend that nothing happened.I called out of work on Monday, and decided that I needed to Drink myself into a stupor.I got good and hammered and didn’t leave the couch all day.I woke up on Monday morning and smelled like shit.Everyone else in the house, except one guy, had already left for work.I instinctively patted down my pockets looking for my phoneWhen reality hit me.I didn’t even have the five dollars to catch the train.I counted out five dollars, mostly in nickels and dimes, ate a sandwichand started my walk to suburban station. I was a little uneasy and paranoid. It felt like Everyone in the city knew that I had been robbed, and like an untrained pit bullThe city smelled my fear.I made it to Market Street and I was bombarded with commerce.There seemed to be a bank on every corner withAll sorts of bankers roaming the streets.I had a lot of time before I had to catch the train so I wandered the streets a bit.I love Philadelphia with all of my heart, and I didn’t want the last memory Of the place to be that of me getting jumped by punk kids.I have read about the astronomical rate of violence in Philly today.I have seen all the arguments about too many guns on the street.I have been told that the youth of this generation Does not care about anything.I did not believe it was anything for me to worry aboutUntil I had that gun in my mouth.I looked at the streets and trash littered the sidewalks.There seemed to be five to seven bums a block All begging for cash.The irony of the whole situation was that there were banks everywhere.I picked up a free newspaper and the first article I read was about how three University of Pennsylvania students had been murdered by neighborhood kidsand I suddenly felt lucky to be alive.I thought of the conversation I had with the French girl the Night before about how she felt alone in the city. She could not speak the language well,Didn’t understand our culture, was disgusted by our food. I thought she was naïveUntil I had that gun in my mouth.Maybe I’m naïveFor being so optimistic.And as I watched the people from the bench on the sidewalk in the middle of the cityI realized that I was worried about all of the wrong things in life.I felt reborn, like I was given a second chance, like the young kid whose arms shook as he looked into my eyes, spared my life for a reason.

07/30/2007