Urban Living Fatigue Syndrome (ULFS) — The South Philly Variant
And this nemesis is vaccine resistant…
I awoke in my South Philly home on New Years morning 2017 at 7:30 a.m. after a night of celebration, hoping to sleep in till mid-morning. After all, it was New Year’s Day. But my hopes were quickly dashed.
Outside the sounds of hip hop blared from a sound system with a booming bass rivaling a Nevada test-site explosion. Yes, this was a holiday morning, but this wasn’t just anywhere- this was South Philadelphia.
I quickly rose and discovered the perpetrators at a local bar 50 yards north within a closed-off block dedicated to the wanton wishes of stubborn, disrespectful post-New Years Eve revelers.
Inside were mostly white millennial men in New Year’s-mummers costumes. Though it was 7:30 a.m., the beers were flowing and these dudes had kept the party going long past the wee hours. The bar owner was nowhere in sight.
Back outside I went to the source: the DJ. After my plea to lower the music, Mr. Combative flipped me the bird from his stage riser. I reached up to swing at him, and then him at me. Fortunately we both missed.
Then, as some of the drunken revelers headed in my direction to aid the DJ, I came to my senses and started back home. I wasn’t able to stop the music, but was lucky to escape with both my dignity and my cojones intact.
Where It All Began
I was a frequent visitor to South Philly for years before calling this community my home from 2007 to 2019 — in the dense urban mecca of redbrick row homes.
These interconnected homes, originating in the early 19th century and unique to the Mid- Atlantic, dot much of Philadelphia. They are thought to be the forerunner to today’s condo/townhouse communities.
Yes, I was part of the post-2000 wave of suburbanites who moved to the city and chose this community for its proximity to center city, sans the eye-popping real estate prices.
My home was on the southern edge of the “Newbold” community. This section of South Philly has evolved significantly over the last two decades into a diverse mix of races and cultures. Still, it remains an Italian stronghold.
The Sounds and Sights
My initial test was just beyond move-in when I came to know my next door neighbors, a Paisan-millennial couple.
Their way of solving conflict was to scream bloody murder at each other. The screams were so abhorrent at times that I suspected physical abuse. The sound through the walls was palpable, and was as if they were in my home.
Some time later, a good friend put it in proper perspective for me: “Dude, what you hear is fighting… but that’s really foreplay to these people.” Turns out he was right. Months later I saw the wife outside and visibly pregnant. I could have fainted.
In row house life, your front door is just a few feet from the front sidewalk and street. And this coziness is most vivid when you’re inside, and some dope walks by coughing up a mammoth Hoagie-flem bomb on the sidewalk- just as he passes your stoop. Guess I was lucky he didn’t take a couple steps to the right and leave it inside the door. Fortunately, it was just my ears that bore the brunt of those hits.
As a resident you learn quickly that South Philly is the gift that keeps on giving. “Block party noise bombs” aren’t exclusively a holiday-morning occurrence. These bombs usually attack spring to fall, and will wreak havoc on the Circadian Rhythm.
Residents with a city permit can shut down an entire block and blare music from noon to 11 p.m. These bombs are usually reserved for graduation parties or birthdays; often it’s more like, “what da hell…let’s have a block party.” Whether next door, or on adjoining block- noise bombs can have damaging aural effects lasting several days.
These indignities can also foil a nice drive through the hood. An unsuspecting arrival upon a closed street entails a maddening detour down multiple one-way streets. If you’re in a hurry- fuhgeddaboudit- you’ll be late.
Accompanying the unique sounds, are the visual encounters. The prototypical summer wardrobe of the South Philly male looks like this: Gym shorts and a wife-beater tee- with sandals slipped over high white socks. The socks-sandles pairing alone could make Cardin or Versace cough up dust. And if you hear a “dees guys” or “bee-yood-ee-ful” in their dialogue then slide em 5 or 10 bucks for the entertainment.
The sensory South Philly coup de grace is the trash. Though many blocks are kept nice and tidy, South Philly is a huge community, and a stroll about town may be tarnished by some astonishing vistas.
One block to the north of my home looked like a landfill just after a quick sweep. Many of these 10x16 foot home-fronts were strewn with food packing, chicken bones and other delights on a daily basis. Home sweet home? Hard to believe people would have such little respect for their surroundings.
Round and Round… and Round Again
The ULFS hot spot that generates great buzz in South Philly- is parking. Imagine you’ve spent a nice night out in the burbs, and upon arrival back in the hood, the buzz-kill begins. It’s 1am and time for a drive all over the hood in a quest for ANY parking spot.
A desperate search may lead you to a main road such as Oregon Avenue or Broad Street. Here, cars can be found lined up on the center median, sometimes stretching into the turning lanes.
How is this legal? Philadelphia has one of the the highest crime rates in the country, and thus the police have bigger fish to fry than writing parking tickets. A community group in 2017 actually filed a grievance against the city for allowing center-median parking. They lost.
A post-midnight search could be 20 minutes before finding a spot within a mile from home. Then the slog back the next day to retrieve your vehicle thus elongates that wee-hours joy ride. During the winter, and especially during snowstorms, parking spaces are more precious than food.
A Change Is Gonna Come
Though my reflections here are just the tip of the ULFS iceberg, it is time that I take a step back. I’ve used my creative license to dish out some heavy smack- so allow me to show my old hood some love; give credit where credit is due, as my dad used to say.
Despite ULFS, I was fortunate to forge some amazing friendships, bask in the wonder of world class Philly cultural institutions, and imbibe at some fantabulous bar-restaurants. The priceless memories I made here are with me forever.
But ULFS was my nemesis who eventually won out- though I did devise a solution. Now ensconced in a quiet suburb just a 20-minute drive to South Philly, I’ve made an exchange I can blissfully embrace.
In essence, I’ve traded blaring hip-hop and fights with DJ’s for the wonder of nature and the sounds of woodpeckers- plus a damn parking spot whenever I want one.
And this new found proximity to my past life allows me to revel in the urban mayhem whenever I need a fix. And admittedly- every now and then- I need me a little mayhem.
