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Philly-NYC Trip, Day 2
Sep. 5th, 2022 11:59 pmMONDAY
We headed out for Breakfast with Betsy, a couple blocks south of the hotel on Chestnut Street. I thought it was a small independent restaurant but it turned out to be the hotel restaurant for the Renaissance Hotel. The explanation seems to be related to the wall full of portraits of Betsy Ross. Gary had the classic omelet and I had the Philly omelet with shaved beef, cheese, and peppers.
As we left the restaurant, intending to head for the subway station to purchase transit passes, we noticed we were right in front of Independence Hall. So we took a few pictures and stopped by the Liberty Bell pavilion. We spotted a couple of cute cubby uniformed security guards at various points. After visiting the Bell, we descended into the subway station to buy passes. Gary had a little trouble with the kiosk but eventually was able to pick up two passes. When we boarded the westbound train, a cubby dude with curly hair was smoking a blunt (pot-laced cigar); he left the train at the next station. 🎶 Ooh, that smell... 🎶 We left the train at 30th Street Station and were immediately confronted by an unfortunate incident on the platform: a not-unattractive, heavy-set youngish dude in an orange shirt and what appeared to be underwear lay on the platform, unresponsive and being attended to by medics. On our way out of the station we noticed a fire crew and an ambulance who had been summoned to assist.
We walked to a bus stop opposite the far corner of the train station, to catch a bus to the Rocky Steps leading to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Unfortunately the Steps were inaccessible today because there were crews cleaning up after the Made in America Festival which concluded last night. But it wasn't a total waste of time, as we got to see (in addition to the hot construction bears in hi-visibility shirts) the Rodin Museum, Logan Square, the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul, and Love Park (featuring the Robert Indiana sculpture as well as several fountains people could play in). When we arrived at Love Park, I texted back and forth with Harry and we made arrangements to meet on Wednesday outside the stadium for the Phillies game. Before descending into the subway once more, I bought soft drinks from a street vendor while he prepared a meal for a nice young lady with heavy braids navigating the streets in a wheelchair.
We finished our drinks and rode the subway back to Independence Mall. Across the street I noticed the YO sign was also meant to be read from the back, where it reads OY. This led to a visit to the Weitzman Museum of American Jewish History, an affiliate of the Smithsonian Institution, which occupies the building behind YO/OY. As instructed (and in keeping with our usual strategy of exploring a multi-story museum in any case), we ascended the elevator to the top (fourth) floor and worked our way down. I noticed several references to Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, the first rabbinical seminary in the US. I looked it up online and it is still operating in Cincinnati as well as campuses in New York, Los Angeles, and Jerusalem. When we had explored the chronological exhibits on the upper three floors and returned to ground level, I noticed a further exhibit in the basement so I took Gary downstairs to see it: a wall of posters including one memorializing Harvey Milk, as well as two portraits of first responders flanking an exhibit of military nursing uniforms including a full biohazard suit.
We ascended the elevator and exited the museum in search of a late lunch. The next block over on Market Street housed several shops featuring hoagies and cheesesteaks. En route we stopped by the printing shop of Ben Franklin and explored the courtyard where large metal structures were erected to outline the envelopes where the two buildings composing Franklin's home had once stood. This was a spot I recall visiting with Harry back around 1989 or 1990. We picked the first hoagie shop we came across, Primo Hoagies, and ordered cheesesteaks to go since they were closing early for Labor Day. On the way back to the hotel I noticed a shirtless, lean bicyclist wearing a chain around his neck approaching from the opposite direction.
We returned to our room and ate our late lunch, I called Sheila to wish her a happy birthday, then Gary went upstairs to relax poolside and I showered, donned a swimsuit and joined him. I hopped in the pool, doing ten laps, updating my journal, then hopping in for ten more and capping off the session with a somersault. My second set I was accompanied in the pool by a cute and clearly biracial boy of perhaps ten or twelve, while his parents (Dad reminds me of Darius Rucker aka Hootie; Mom looks either Asian or Native American) looked on approvingly and Mom took video. Also in the pool area were a bearish gentleman about our age, a hot and slightly younger bear who looked around briefly but didn't stay; and a group of four middle-aged and older adults, likely a family group of some sort. Gary slept most of the time we were in the pool area. As we were preparing to go, a simply huge bear in a yellow swimsuit and a tall but leaner dude got in the pool.
We returned to the room and watched local news for a few minutes, then Gary suggested dinner at the Race Street Cafe a couple blocks around the corner from the hotel. The place was a well-maintained old bar with an Irish pub ambiance. A nice-looking dude with an impeccably trimmed beard sat in the window as we made our way to the back corner table. Gary ordered the tortelloni in vodka sauce with grilled chicken; I had the sweet-and-sour brisket with vegetables and mashed potatoes in a potato skin cup. I also drank a couple glasses of a very dry cider which was very nice. Gary decided he didn't want to visit the Bike Stop so I informed Carl on Messenger. Instead we returned to the room and watched sports the rest of the evening.
We headed out for Breakfast with Betsy, a couple blocks south of the hotel on Chestnut Street. I thought it was a small independent restaurant but it turned out to be the hotel restaurant for the Renaissance Hotel. The explanation seems to be related to the wall full of portraits of Betsy Ross. Gary had the classic omelet and I had the Philly omelet with shaved beef, cheese, and peppers.
As we left the restaurant, intending to head for the subway station to purchase transit passes, we noticed we were right in front of Independence Hall. So we took a few pictures and stopped by the Liberty Bell pavilion. We spotted a couple of cute cubby uniformed security guards at various points. After visiting the Bell, we descended into the subway station to buy passes. Gary had a little trouble with the kiosk but eventually was able to pick up two passes. When we boarded the westbound train, a cubby dude with curly hair was smoking a blunt (pot-laced cigar); he left the train at the next station. 🎶 Ooh, that smell... 🎶 We left the train at 30th Street Station and were immediately confronted by an unfortunate incident on the platform: a not-unattractive, heavy-set youngish dude in an orange shirt and what appeared to be underwear lay on the platform, unresponsive and being attended to by medics. On our way out of the station we noticed a fire crew and an ambulance who had been summoned to assist.
We walked to a bus stop opposite the far corner of the train station, to catch a bus to the Rocky Steps leading to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Unfortunately the Steps were inaccessible today because there were crews cleaning up after the Made in America Festival which concluded last night. But it wasn't a total waste of time, as we got to see (in addition to the hot construction bears in hi-visibility shirts) the Rodin Museum, Logan Square, the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul, and Love Park (featuring the Robert Indiana sculpture as well as several fountains people could play in). When we arrived at Love Park, I texted back and forth with Harry and we made arrangements to meet on Wednesday outside the stadium for the Phillies game. Before descending into the subway once more, I bought soft drinks from a street vendor while he prepared a meal for a nice young lady with heavy braids navigating the streets in a wheelchair.
We finished our drinks and rode the subway back to Independence Mall. Across the street I noticed the YO sign was also meant to be read from the back, where it reads OY. This led to a visit to the Weitzman Museum of American Jewish History, an affiliate of the Smithsonian Institution, which occupies the building behind YO/OY. As instructed (and in keeping with our usual strategy of exploring a multi-story museum in any case), we ascended the elevator to the top (fourth) floor and worked our way down. I noticed several references to Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, the first rabbinical seminary in the US. I looked it up online and it is still operating in Cincinnati as well as campuses in New York, Los Angeles, and Jerusalem. When we had explored the chronological exhibits on the upper three floors and returned to ground level, I noticed a further exhibit in the basement so I took Gary downstairs to see it: a wall of posters including one memorializing Harvey Milk, as well as two portraits of first responders flanking an exhibit of military nursing uniforms including a full biohazard suit.
We ascended the elevator and exited the museum in search of a late lunch. The next block over on Market Street housed several shops featuring hoagies and cheesesteaks. En route we stopped by the printing shop of Ben Franklin and explored the courtyard where large metal structures were erected to outline the envelopes where the two buildings composing Franklin's home had once stood. This was a spot I recall visiting with Harry back around 1989 or 1990. We picked the first hoagie shop we came across, Primo Hoagies, and ordered cheesesteaks to go since they were closing early for Labor Day. On the way back to the hotel I noticed a shirtless, lean bicyclist wearing a chain around his neck approaching from the opposite direction.
We returned to our room and ate our late lunch, I called Sheila to wish her a happy birthday, then Gary went upstairs to relax poolside and I showered, donned a swimsuit and joined him. I hopped in the pool, doing ten laps, updating my journal, then hopping in for ten more and capping off the session with a somersault. My second set I was accompanied in the pool by a cute and clearly biracial boy of perhaps ten or twelve, while his parents (Dad reminds me of Darius Rucker aka Hootie; Mom looks either Asian or Native American) looked on approvingly and Mom took video. Also in the pool area were a bearish gentleman about our age, a hot and slightly younger bear who looked around briefly but didn't stay; and a group of four middle-aged and older adults, likely a family group of some sort. Gary slept most of the time we were in the pool area. As we were preparing to go, a simply huge bear in a yellow swimsuit and a tall but leaner dude got in the pool.
We returned to the room and watched local news for a few minutes, then Gary suggested dinner at the Race Street Cafe a couple blocks around the corner from the hotel. The place was a well-maintained old bar with an Irish pub ambiance. A nice-looking dude with an impeccably trimmed beard sat in the window as we made our way to the back corner table. Gary ordered the tortelloni in vodka sauce with grilled chicken; I had the sweet-and-sour brisket with vegetables and mashed potatoes in a potato skin cup. I also drank a couple glasses of a very dry cider which was very nice. Gary decided he didn't want to visit the Bike Stop so I informed Carl on Messenger. Instead we returned to the room and watched sports the rest of the evening.