I always miss all the fun. If I'm in a town where the greatest excitement anyone experiences is watching paint peel and we all sat out front of the oldest building night and day, I'd friggin' blink as soon as the biggest piece in town history curls.
So anyway, after by brother took his leave of me and spent his remaining time in PhiliHELLphia to hang out with other friends and grovel to Temple to grant him a diploma, he had the adventure of his young life. First, he awoke in the morning to find that his car had been broken into. Unheard of in PhiliHELLphia, I know. Surely you're saying, "It must be some kind of misunderstanding. Perhaps the fellow thought it was his own car and that his keys were locked inside." Yes, this good-natured but misguided citizen mistakenly broke his window and accidentally took his camera and most of his cassettes. TSK!
So then as the lad was in a CVS buying enough duct tape to keep the bugs out of his teeth, another upstanding citizen declared that he resembled the photograph of the Center City Rapist, a rather nasty fellow currently terrorizing the pristine town of PhiliHELLphia. He hounded my poor brother and as my kin went into another store, the samaritan decided to call the police. No sooner had my brother left the record store where he was buying new tapes than six squad cars drive up.
In short order, he is placed in the back of the cruiser and taken off to the station. He was denied the joy of handcuffs, but he did experience the sublime ecstasy of the interrogation. According to him, it wasn't exactly an NYPD thing, since the interrogators obviously recognized that he was more of a danger to himself and to very small insects than to others. They let him go eventually.
I've learned something from all this. PhiliHELLphia sucks and I shall never return...unless I've acutally got a reason to. But it had better be a GOOD reason. Or they at least better use handcuffs.
