Brotherly Love

Philadelphia has a lot of problems. Leaving aside the corrupt political and police infrastructure, the city is just plain filthy; garbage everywhere. There is a certain resignation in the air. I’d like to see Rudy take stab at Mayor now that his presidential aspirations have dissolved. You may not like the guy but he did a bang up job cleaning up The Apple. No, it’s not perfect but compared to the days of Dinkins and Beame and even Koch to a certain extent even though he was wildly popular, NYC is a paradise compared to what it was.

I was in Philly today, delivering some goodies to #1 son at his place of work, the Naked Chocolate Cafe. On street parking is hit or miss on Walnut Street. Today was a miss for me so I ducked into a parking garage on Juniper. Now in this particular garage there are two important pieces of paper, the ticket one gets by pushing the green button to open the front gate – the ticket that sets the clock running if you will – and the ticket the attendant gives you when stuffing your vehicle in a space you would never dream of attempting to place your car in the first place.

Following the visit I used the “time” ticket to pay for my parking, then trundled up to the third floor to retrieve said vehicle. I got to my car and the attendant asked for the ticket to prove it’s my car. Nope, not in that pocket. Not in that one either. Did he even give me one? Nope not in the side pockets. Just nowhere to be found. After five minutes of searching that I’m sure to anyone watching looked like the attendant was directing me in a full course of calisthenics, he nicely decided to cut me some slack and told me not to worry about it. So I head down the ramp toward the exit. Now, to get out I need the “time” ticket to open the exit gate, just to verify I’ve paid. So I grab the ticket…well, no it’s not in that pocket. It’s not on the passenger seat. I just had it in my hand!!!! Not on the floor. Cars lined up behind me waiting to exit. Damn.

I look out of the windshield and a young man saunters by. He must have been watching my frantic search and thought I was having a stroke. But he was smiling, just short of out and out laughter. He walks up to the car, reaches up and pulls the ticket off….the roof of the car, walks over to the machine, inserts the ticket and up comes the gate. How it stayed on the roof after a drive down a three story ramp is beyond me. With profound thanks and much humilityI went on my way.

OK, so some of the citizens still embrace the brotherly love philosophy of the city. Thank God.



Filed under america, travel

5 responses to “Brotherly Love

  1. i just got home today. a beleated congrats on your new digs here.

    i flew through philly. i have to say i love the city and have since I was a kid but the negative aspects pain me. they are undeniable. i wish someone would clean out the rats (both political and otherwise) and spruce the place up so it can shine in the way it should….in all ways.

  2. So, if you were scared to see him get hit with a pie, why did you become a baker? Just a thought.. 😉

    (sorry, I’m in a very silly mood this afternoon..)

  3. Whoops, this new comment format is confusing me, I’ll get used to it, wrong comment wrong post.. lol

    Thanks for another reason not to drive a car. I’d never get out of a garage like that.

  4. I do a weekly comic for the Philadelphia Daily News about everyday life in the city, and this would make a great story. You can see my previous work here: . If you’re interested, please get in touch. 🙂

  5. Pingback: I’VE BEEN IMMORTALIZED !!!!!! « security is for cadavers…

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