I left all areas North of the Mason/Dixon line almost 25 years ago. There was a return to Boston for a few years when a relationship got serious with a girl there but the truth is, I’m not really a Northeast kind of guy. It’s a fun place to visit… but perhaps best visited in short bursts. I love some people in this part of the country, but I find the area, especially in wintry weather, to be, um… trying.
This is especially true in a return to what I guess could be considered my hometown. Albeit at this stage, I’m not sure it can be a homecoming when you don’t really think of it as home anymore. From the time I touched down in the Philadelphia Airport, I was reminded of why I was moved to move for college… and beyond. In November the weather turns cold, and dark, and damp, and dreary, and, well, the best way I think I can describe it is oppressively depressing. I need sunshine and while there were times when the sun broke through, there was just a sense of… ominous ennui to the place.
I readily admit the place is haunted for me, stray memories of youth intermingled with ghosts both personal and locational. I’ll always miss you, supposed mafia front Italian restaurant O Sole Mio. But driving through the small main street of Malvern, PA, I was struck by how relieved I am that I’m not living here anymore.
Part of that feeling was enhanced by my biased interactions with the locals. To me, the cold weather prompts people to bundle up, put their heads down, and focus on getting from point A to point B as fast as possible… and to hell with anyone else. Courtesy and friendliness take a massive backseat to the necessity of motion. So I already had these vibe of people disdaining me as a person be it as a pedestrian or a driver; of the latter, I noticed those in cars in this area might be amongst the worst drivers I’ve seen. And I live in Orlando where the majority of drivers are tourists unfamiliar with the roads and driving rental cars they aren’t familiar with, and all living in vacation mindset which seems to divorce them from reality and the needs to, I don’t know, pay attention in any way, shape or form. The Philly drivers meanwhile seemed to drive recklessly on purpose, as if the grit and grime of salted roads during winter time created an enveloping force field on their cars that made them think they were impervious to damage… or at least damage they would care about.
Separate from the drivers, I continually felt like Pennsylvania was trying to nickel and dime me on every little thing. Prices would be marked but then I’d be billed just a bit more. It started when I picked up my rental car and was charged local taxes and fees that ran 110% of my rental price. And the city of Philadelphia recently enacted a sin tax on soda such that there’s a surcharge on drinks. I had forgotten that when my $1 soda came out to $1.89, which included the surcharge and a tax the list price and the surcharge. Except later I would buy the same size $1 soda and the price was only $1.64. I was still in Center City so it wasn’t like there was a different city tax rate. I don’t know if the tax is less on weekends… or maybe they just charge a random amount based on whims. But considering the tax was to provide a disincentive to soda consumption and to fund I suppose anti-obesity efforts, I wanted to pull up my MarathonGuide.com race history and say, “hey, ya know what? Maybe you need to look at an exemption for me.” But that elitist attitude is wrong headed – I should be supportive of measures to get people to pursue a healthier lifestyle. And yet at the same time – NWMDC, ya know what I’m saying? Not With My Diet Coke, yeah?
The gas prices are also closer to California than Florida… and I guess I should have filled up in New Jersey when I stayed there one night before the Rocky Run. Even with their insane “all stations are full service” rules, they were a good 40 cents CHEAPER than Pennsylvania.
Look, I know I’m being petty talking about pennies but there are also dollars involved here. While I mind less (though still mind some) overpaying when it’s for family or friends, when it’s just me and I feel like I personally am throwing money away on silly old me, well, it cuts somehow much, much deeper.
I got GPS routed onto the PA turnpike and didn’t want to pay the daily usage fee of the rental car for their EZ pass device. So I dutifully pulled through the cash lane entryway to get my ticket. The problem is, the PA turnpike didn’t tell me the exit I was supposed to take was an EZ Pass ONLY exit… or at least they didn’t tell me until I passed the last exit before it that I could have used my ticket. I wound up then driving an extra 10 miles to get to the next ticket booth exit… 10 miles which cost an additional $3 on the turnpike. It all felt like a scam to screw the tourists. And Florida is guilty of that too but at least there the odds of warm sunshine are higher.
Sigh. Rant, rant, rant. Woe is me. I’m a victim. I know, I know. This has veered from fun running/traveling tales into a therapy session.
I sound like a spoiled rotten brat, I know. But seriously, this town and I just aren’t meant for each other. Maybe we never were. The final insult to injury came as I arrived at the airport. I used to love that PHL had a policy wherein the prices charged inside the airport had to match what you’d pay outside the airport – it was designed to discourage price gouging and to put a thumb on the scale of supply and demand given that we all are a captive audience here inside security. And yet in the years since I was last here, that policy has clearly been abandoned. A sandwich from a deli chain that should be IRL real life $5 to $6 was running $9 to $10 here at the terminal.
I’m just going to come out and say it. I kinda hate you, Pennsylvania. I suspect your definition of “brotherly love” that you use to market Philadelphia is much more aligned with passive aggressive rough housing and abuse than what I view as my relationship with my brother Steve. So I’ve paid my taxes and fees and tolls and arbitrary penalties for visiting you. I look forward to having dinner with my brother some day soon and NOT feeling like I’ve been ripped off.
Perhaps as a reminder of what is really important you have succeeded; you just made me not want to come back any time soon.
Fortunately for your city and state coffers you have some of my favorite people in the world here. I suggest you treat your residents better than you treat your visitors.
Huffily and puffily (in more ways than one), I am Kevin S. Hanna.
And I approved this message.