As storms rolled in to the Philadelphia area from the west (not part of Hurricane Irene), this was the scene from our 27th-floor window in the Center City. It’s incredible to see the weather from this height!
Philadelphia Panorama
The Guy at the Airport
As I stepped off the escalator into the Baggage Claim area, he started coming toward me. I didn’t think I was his target because I don’t know this guy. But the closer he came, the more obvious is was that he was about to block my path. Suddenly, he was standing right in front of me.
“Hey, Marshall,” he said. At least he’s friendly. “I’m the guy who e-mailed you!”
“Oh, great! Hi!” I said with a blank expression. I have no idea who this guy is.
“Yeah, I sent a note to you and that lady you’re on TV with a couple of years ago about coming to see the studio.”
“Dude. I got nothing. Help me remember. I get hundreds of e-mails a day.”
“Yeah, the lady, she comes to our Christmas party. The Delaware County Sheriff’s Office.”
“Oh, okay,” I said, desperately trying to put something together. I still have absolutely no idea who this guy is.
“Well, I just wanted to say hi. I’m from Cleveland. You’re Cleveland.”
I resisted the urge to say I was from Bucyrus, that I just worked in Cleveland for a while. “I’m so sorry. I have the memory span of a household gnat. But thanks.”
“Yeah, y’know I studied meteorology. How I ended up in this line of work is beyond me. Being a sheriff’s deputy and all.”
I’m at a total loss here. “Well, we all follow our passions. Have a good day!”
“Yeah. You, too.”
He never even told me his name. I have absolutely no idea who that guy was. Or why he thought I should recognize him because he sent an e-mail a “couple of years ago.”
Oy.
The New and Improved DTW
It’s still an enormous mess of an airport but it’s light years ahead of what it used to be. The Detroit Airport has made a lot of improvements in the past decade or so. It’s a sprawling landscape of concrete runways and taxiways and huge terminal buildings that require their own shuttles.
To get between the D Terminal and the conjoined B & C Terminals, you dive underground. The passageway is lit with subdued greens and blues that pulsate with the esoteric music piped in from the walls. It feels as though you’re under water instead of under the tarmac. When you pop up on the other side, it’s a new world with more twisting corridors, escalotors and moving sidewalks.
At least there’s this: DTW seems much more user-friendly than it was 10 years ago.
Halfway Home
I have to say, I could easily get used to traveling in First Class. The seats are much roomier, the service is much more personal and the disembarking is a breeze. Geez, you even get real glass glasses. Ahhh, the lap of luxury. Now, if onl it didn’t cost 15 times as much as a regular ticket!
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I was able to read most of the trip here. But as we started to fly over Lake Erie, I found myself mesmerized by what was just outside the window. Cedar Point and Sandusky passed below us. I managed to snap some photos of Kelley’s Island and Put In Bay. Toledo whizzed by with lake freighters churning through the water toward the Maumee Bay harbor. In minutes, we were on the ground in Detroit (well, Romulus). We are halfway there!
Leaving, On a Jet Plane
I’m at the airport. The place is super busy with people trying to get back to a normal, post-hurricane life. Business people are scurrying around with phones to their ears. Tourists and wander through the terminal looking lost. And I’m sitting in a dining area pecking away at a keyboard. Hey, it’s a good way to pass the time. I’m really early.
When I checked in, I noticed something unusual. The kiosk offered to check my first two bags for free. Yes, free. That sent up a couple of red flags. Something’s different. When the seat-assignment screen came up, a couple of words in very small typeface popped up: FIRST CLASS.
Ummmm, wha?! “First Class?” Really?! Apparently, I’ve been automatically upgraded. Sweet! They probably didn’t have any other seats available and I lucked out. Certainly not going to complain about that!
Poker Night
We try to squeeze in a Poker Night every year. It’s a great time for a handful of us to hang out quietly, away from the masses and just enjoy each others’ company. Sunday night was our night.
There’s no actual cash involved. We just hand out a bunch of chips. Then the dealing begins. We play Five Card Draw, mostly because I’m not smart enough to understand how to play Texas Hold ‘Em.
I managed to play for about an hour or so and had a bunch of chips left on the table, but really needed to get to bed in order to get up early to get to the airport. I awarded all my chips to Greg since he’d already busted earlier. He’d be back in the game.
Thank goodness the luggage is already packed. I can just slide into the bed and snooze.
Hurricanes and Pizza
As the afternoon progressed, the weather improved and people began to realize that the city had survived, more shops and restaurants began to open their doors. The neighborhood by bustling by dinner time. People were out in droves trying to stave off a little cabin fever brought on by the hurricane.
We managed to avoid a huge group that was gathering in the hotel lobby for a dinner excursion. Getting in to a restaurant with 30 people is never easy. And it turns in to more of a nightmare than an enjoyable experience. Plus, there were a few bucketsful of crazy going along for the tour.
Our gang of five decided to strike out on its own, in search of a decent post-storm meal.
The concierge gave us a whole sheet of suggestions. But we didn’t really know what would be open. So, we decided to wander the neighborhood and see what presented itself. The first Italian restaurant couldn’t get us in for at least 90 minutes so we kept walking. But we didn’t go far. In fact, we stopped at a pizza-and-wine joint next door.
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The Zavino Wine Bar and Pizzeria sat us immediately. The exposed-brick walls and long, dark-wood bar were inviting. Our table was near the back of the seating area, right next to the pizza oven. It’s not wood-fired but it’s definitely artisanal. And the oven is kinda small. They were making one pizza at a time.
The drink special was a “Hurricane,” naturally with lychee juice and rum. It was only appropriate to have a round for everyone. The Lemoncello Margaritas were a hit, too, but I found them a little bit bitter.
The pizzas were fantastic. The Diavlo was Zavino’s version of a pepperoni pie but the slices of meat were the size of bottle-bottoms. Delicious with a spicy sauce.
zavino wine bar and pizzeria
112 S. 13th Street
Midtown Village
Philadelphia, PA 19107
www.zavino.com
A Very Quiet, Laid Back Afternoon
We had another meal at El Vez. It’s one of the few places in the neighborhood that’s actually open today. Most places are shuttered either because of the hurricane or because it’s Sunday.
I’m really loving this place. It’s “modern” Mexican cuisine. Some of the best guacamole ever! And the plantains are out of this world!
Barb and I had a couple of margaritas. You’re surprised. Just shocked.
People Watching As Sport
Once the live shots were finished for the morning shows, we were on our own. Finished for the day. After a 5am start, we were ready for a break. My friend, Barb, sat with me most of the morning as we did the live hits. She was a trooper. Thanks for keeping me company, Barb!
We still ended up sitting by the same windows most of the morning and into the first part of the afternoon. The people watching was just spectacular. There were the wandering crazies, the fashion disasters, the hotties and the just-plain-odd. Of course, we had something catty to say about each and every one of them. Especially as we were joined by half a dozen other stranded conventioneers.
There was the woman who stood in the middle of the intersection barking at the wind and getting a couple of free cigarettes from the SEPTA workers across the street. Her umbrella was nothing more than a wire skeleton with some fabric flapping like a wadded-up flag in the breeze. (It later ended up as a CNN prop.) There was the mother-daughter team dressed in all-black outfits, covered in clear-plastic bags and wearing different color crocks.
And then the Piece de Resistance (how do you spell that?):
The people watching in Center City Philadelphia is outstanding.
What you can’t see in the photo are the long, blonde braids draped across her bussum with matching, blue bows tied around the ends. Even the dog seems to want to get away from this mess.
Before snapping the photo, a nice gay couple walked up near the window. One appeared to be leading his own-of-town friend on a tour of the Center City. He stopped and pointed to the statue of William Penn atop City Hall a couple of blocks away. They were a living, breathing tourism poster. When three people inside the hotel lounge jumped up with cameras, the boys thought they were in for their own photo shoot. But all three people whooshed by the boys to snap images of the Woman in Blue and her dog. The boys were devastated. Then they looked to their left. They saw her. “Ohhhhhh,” they nodded in appreciation. They understood.
New Video
I got out in the rain and shot some new video for the morning shows. There was a limb down on the sidewalk across the street from the hotel but, otherwise, no visible signs of damage in the vicinity.
I was able to edit the video (again, in iMovie) but this time I put the file in DropBox’s public folder and sent Brett the URL so they could download it at the station. They still had to convert the .mov file but it was easier to download via DropBox. Don’t know why I didn’t’ think of it last night.
