Brotherly Love

Because I came back to New York a week before school started, I decided to take a little trip and see some out of state sights. By which, of course, I mean eat other foods. So I arranged to visit my friend Tim who lives just outside of Philadelphia and encounter what the city had to offer.

Do you remember how I said even though I've been in New York City for four years and I still cannot navigate the west village? Well apparently, this direction problem is more widespread than I thought. Tim offered to pick me up from the train station in Trenton, NJ and drive me the rest of the way to Philly. I still don't understand all these small states. It seems like more of a hassle than it is. Anyways, the plan was to drive into Philly and get his favorite cheesesteak, from Tony Luke's.

Obviously, we got lost on the way there. We could literally see it when we made a wrong turn and ended up on a highway going away from our destination.
While I don't claim to be a moron (others may, though I have a CA driver's license), I am not exactly the world's greatest driver. I've totaled my car before. I get confused when there are multiple freeways (or when there are toll booths) (these are things I never grew up with, ok?). So I was heavily relying on Tim getting us to where we needed to be. There was talk of a lot of numbers and directions, taking exits that just spit us onto other highways, and signs that were vague and confusing. It was mildly worrisome when we were passing signs indicating we were near Trenton (again).

After driving around in, essentially, a big circle, we got off the highway and risked the surface streets. Tim utilizing his excellent sense of what is near Tony Luke's drove on and we eventually found it. I obviously ordered and "whiz wit'" and a Pepsi. Though I am partial to Provolone (the original cheesesteak cheese of the 30s) I felt a certain iconic symbolism in the cheez whiz. Don't ask me why. The semi insulated dining area was all chrome business. Austere but fully functionally. Which, fittingly, describes the cheesesteak. It wasn't fancy or adorned with the unnecessary. It was a crusty, textured roll that gently cradled a warm and delicious heap of thinly sliced, tender steak, ripples of orange sauce with that creamy texture of cheese, and onions sweetly grilled to lend an edge to round out the flavor. This is what people talk about when they talk about cheesesteaks.


Though content to the point of bursting for hours, by late evening the hunger set in again. And of course this called for Tim's favorite place ever, or so it seems as I've heard him describe it so frequently. This, of course, is the Mid Atlantic sensation Wawa. Though vaguely described as 7-11 or other convenience chain, I like to think of Wawa as somehow combining the best aspects of 7-11, Subway, and Tokyo. 7-11 because obviously it's a convenience chain, you can buy your gas, your big gulp, bags of chips, or even have a milkshake blended for you automatically (!!!), all of this 24/7. Subway because you can order a variety fresh made delicious sandwiches. And Tokyo, only because they employ what seems an overly elaborate computer touch pad ordering system, the only other time I used for food was when I visited Japan. I got a toasted Italian sub, loaded with garden veggies and splashed with oil and vinegar. Of course I got the self blended chocolate shake with it too. I HAD to try it out. It was, all in all, an amazing experience. I would kill to have that back in Santa Barbara (though it's really hard to beat Freebird's for the late night glut attack).

Anyways after that, we done. Full well through the night. Our lunch plans the next morning traded for extra sleep. I guess we "ruined our appetites." Such is life. There's always another one right behind it.