voxpop metropolis: Philadelphia Metropolis

Riding Their Bikes

Best of VoxPop» There are two kinds of bicyclists in South Philadelphia. If you think I am over-generalizing, go to the corner of Ninth St. and Washington Ave. and try to find a third variety. You'll be standing there a long while. Let's call the first kind -- my kind --the South Philly Cyclists. Let's call the second kind the Passyunk Pedalers. These names aren't terribly descriptive, but what's the point to life if there's no alliteration? We South Philly Cyclists are new to the neighborhood. We are interlopers. We are the educated types, or the creative ones, or occasionally even both. We are young, or despite appearances we pretend to be. We are female as often as male, but uniformly white. By no means are we rich, but we care about reducing our carbon footprint, and a certain material comfort is required of those who care about their carbon footprint. (Comments)

My Declaration of Independence

Best of VoxPop» It is no coincidence that I now live only a few blocks from Independence Hall. When I was a toddler, I was determined to do everything by myself, so my grandfather dubbed me the Declaration of Independence. The name still suits me. To appreciate this, you need to know that I am legally blind. That means that I have minimal sight in one eye and none in the other, and no depth perception. While I can get around without the assistance of either a guide dog or a white cane, I can't read street signs or facial expressions, and I hold printed matter inches from my eyes to read it. You will be relieved to learn that the state of Pennsylvania, in its wisdom, will not grant me a driver's license. (Comments)

Make 'Em Laugh, Make 'Em Laugh

Best of VoxPop» I am single. I spent five years in college with nothing more than a few awkward drinks and "hook-ups" that got me nowhere. I'm sure there are plenty of reasons (excuses) for my chronic single-ness. It could have been my lack of enthusiasm for the Drexel crowd. Light-wash denim shorts and tube socks combined with greasy pony tailed hair just didn't do it for me. Or it could be that God has spited me and placed a giant neon sign above my head that says "Run away! She'll chop your balls off!" only visible to those I find myself even mildly attracted to. There is, however, one answer that holds up. One of my best guy friends once told me at a party, "Guys don't date you because you're too funny." At the time it seemed ludicrous, but it buzzed around in my head, like a pesky fly caught between two windowpanes. The more I thought about it, the more I realized it was true. (Comments)

Fired for All the Right Reasons

Best of VoxPop» So I had a first-time experience the other day. For most of the spring and summer, I was working for a company in University City. It was an easy job. A trained monkey could have done it, aside from the occasional crisis (in which I imagine the monkey would have run about throwing feces, which is not very conducive to getting things fixed -- however rewarding it may be). (Comments)

Philadelphia in the Nude

Best of VoxPop» I'm not afraid to get naked. I needed spare cash, so I sold my body - to art. When I moved to Philly, I had no contacts; just my wits and mounting expenses. Posing nude for artists was on my bucket list anyway, just under eating a fried Oreo and above sky diving. At least I could get paid for this. I called a few places, and soon found myself sitting in on the Sketch Club's Saturday open session as an observer. My comfort with nudity I'd discovered trolling along the coast of Sydney, Australia. My friends and I got onto the sand, and were confronted with a beach littered with naked breasts, like sunny-side up eggs frying under the fierce sun. We looked at them, looked at each other, and burst out laughing. It was only a matter of time before the first of us deftly (Comments)