Day 36 - The Eye of The Grumpy Tiger

From – Philadelphia (PA)
To – Baltimore (Maryland)
Via – A Few Rainy Minutes in Delaware
Miles Driven - 98

Today’s Photos - http://www.flickr.com/photos/32017704@N03/sets/72157610948895509/

On the morning of Day 36, me and the Philly Sheraton officially fell out. I admit that I already had the ‘ump about their spiralling costs and lack of basic provisions (did I mention that a bottle of room temperature Poland Spring water in the room was going for $5…just a 400% mark-up on their retail value) but my innocent question about if I could use one of the luggage trolleys was denied because of hotel policy that they have to be accompanied by a bell boy. Moving 6 months worth of luggage isn’t exactly an easy feat but we have got it down to a bit of a fine art these days so the addition of another body is actually more of a hindrance than a help. Now the only reasons I can think of why they won’t let me use it alone is a) they think I am going to steel it (but considering they are 8 feet tall and shiny, that seems unlikely) or b) they see a tip opportunity going out of the window. Now as stingy as I am (and I don’t mind admitting that there is a certain amount of Scottish running through these veins) I have a real problem with tipping when clearly there has been no value added by the person stood in front of you with their hand out. It’s like when a doorman says “do you need a cab?”, only to summon one from the line of waiting cabs just 3 metres away. Is that really worth a dollar? I think not. Anyway, sure enough, once we had packed up we had to call for a bell-boy to collect the luggage. I fetched the car to the front of reception and waited for a good 10 minutes for the luggage to arrive (value added?) and then when it arrived I had to pack it myself as the 60+ year old bell man looked like he was one holdall away from cardiac arrest. I hope our $5 tip was the last $5 he needed to retire and buy that little place in Bermuda he’s always had his eye on. So, 10 minutes later than planned, feeling bad about physically abusing a senior citizen and $5 lighter, we drove away from the hotel and vowed never to stay in another Sheraton for the rest of this trip. However, sometimes needs must and I am currently sat in the Baltimore Sheraton writing this and feeling deliciously dirty about it!

Now this rant means that I have missed out the chunk of the of the morning where we managed to brave the miserable weather to find the Franklin Institute which houses a science museum (lots of buttons to press, brilliant) and a planetarium where we watched a cracking twenty minute video about the sun with about thirty, five year olds. You may notice the theme during this trip that the things that entertain us most are the things aimed at pre-schoolers (see Hershey’s factory, see Ben & Jerry’s etc) and the Franklin Institute was no exception. Whilst there was a plethora of information on offer, it was more fun to just press the buttons, watch the spark/shot/sound/light and move on. We did, however, learn that Kate has about 20 cups of blood whilst I have about 35, I can pitch a baseball only half the speed of the pro’s, exercise is good for you – especially to operatic cartoon characters, Kate would only weigh 11lbs on Mars but I would still be morbidly obese and pointed at and ridiculed by aliens, Kate is going to age like Bella Emberg whilst I will maintain the handsome good-looks of an early Charles Heston (minus the NRA issues) and that my heart rate is completely unaffected by external stimulus (I say that makes me unflappable, Kate says it makes me clinically dead).

One more unmissable thing to see on the way out of Philly was the Rocky statue at the bottom of the stairs to the Philadelphia Museum of Art which are famous as the stairs Sly ran up then jumped around like a big pansy (not that I would say that to his face) whilst training in Rocky III. Needless to say I mimicked the run and celebration with the tune of “Gonna Fly Now” pumping through my head but I was seriously outdone by a lad wearing a headband and Portishead t-shirt who was using the stairs as a real training aid. Hopefully soon he will get laid and put a rest to this charade.

100 rain soaked miles late we arrived in Baltimore as the sun was setting only to find it unusually tough to get a hotel room that would accept our slobbering beast. Hence we’re in another Sheraton but I have to say that this place is great. 8 miles north of the city we seem to be in the middle of a retail park but it’s nice, cheap, and everything you would expect to be free (internet, water, looking out of the window etc) is free. Kate’s hangover was pretty severe all day so I took Molly for a walk of the neighbourhood to gather information on local eateries. I had a decent list of places by the time I got back to the room but only managed to report a small percentage of my findings because once I had mentioned The Cheesecake Factory, all other bets were cancelled. I remember my sister-in-law waxing lyrical about this place on their visit to the US and the reviews I found said that their no reservations policy meant that waiting was inevitable (all good signs) so we took our rumbling bellies there without delay. The food was pretty darn good (shared chicken pot-stickers to start, jambalaya pasta for me, chicken on cilantro rice for Kate and shared a huge slab of strawberry topped cheesecake for dessert) but the constant highlight was listening to the two 16 year olds on the table next to us. He wore a suit and she had clearly borrowed her auntie’s dress for the occasion but the chat was addictive. Kate was convinced the lad was gay but I don’t think he was yet aware of this fact. With that amount of food inside us, the night was never destined to last more than 30 minutes longer.

Thoroughly looking forward to exploring Baltimore tomorrow…fingers crossed for some decent weather though…