Pix ganked from the famous Jen and Taia (see below).
I had some weirdness going on after the gig, so I was kinda shaken. But: I had this dope-fiend-y plan to hotfoot it to Jim’s Steaks, next door to the Theater for the Living Arts. I planned all night to jump offstage, towel off, change my shirt, and get my cheesteak (with onions–simply “with,” as Philly-ites say–and extra cheez whiz) before the place closed, as it said on the door, at one a.m.
I got there at 12:42 and the doors were locked. I knocked. Dude comes to the door: “We’re closed.”
ONE A.M.!! I yelped.
“We ran out of rolls,” he said.
They ran out of rolls. As the Bee Gees sang: TRAGEDY!
We went to Pat’s. It was great. But I’m a Jim’s person.
By the way, Philadelphians, what’s up with Geno’s? (It’s right across the street from Pat’s, and twice the size) Scrap observed: “With all that neon, it just screams not as good.”