The thing about cousins

This weekend was the annual holiday-imposed family reunion on my father's side of the gene pool. I always look forward to these gatherings with a mix of eagerness and dread. There's nothing particularly wrong with visiting The Family; everyone is cordial and the party snacks aren't bad. If anything, I should only laud my dad, aunts and uncles for their yearly efforts to reunite the group even as geography has separated us.

Unfortunately, as I have grown older, the social interactions required at said gatherings have become systematically and progressively more uncomfortable. While there's always the cousins' rehashing of fonder, childhood memories like which 9-year-old spelled out the naughtiness of Green Day lyrics to the youngins and who, until puberty, was 100% convinced Uncle Charlie had a flying dog who lived in his backyard, we have now added the awkward "semi-adult" conversations.

"Semi-adult" conversations are those in which the cousins (ranging from ages 15-26) air their parents' dirty secrets from college and adolescence which now seem totally absurd and/or sublimely hilarious. Aforementioned parent/aunt/uncle will then casually overhear conversation and additional hilarity or uncomfortable silence will ensue. Ideal topics include: college drug consumption, alcohol-induced stupidity, songs from the 70s.

The other type of "Semi-adult" conversations are those in which the "semi-adult" in all of us is exploited, often at our own personal expense. Typically these conversations consist of an individual cousin speaking to an individual uncle/aunt, however the occasional fluctuating ratio of participants from one generation to another can tip the life-success assessment scales in favor of the larger party.

You don't want to be on the awkward end of one of these chats. Older relatives seek out the youth and unintentionally scrape away at the few shreds of self-confidence most young adults possess. Everyone is well-intentioned but cousins are often forced to confront their current life crises in a up-beat, 10-minute pep-talk sort of way. In the worst of situations, cousins have to reiterate details of the preceding year's failures, dredging up all sorts of ugly repressed thoughts most of us don't want to think about in the privacy of our own heads, let alone discuss over Wheat Thins and a cheese ball.

Actual overheard examples include:

• "So, when are you getting married?"
• "Are you dating anyone?"
• "Haven't you found a job yet?" (actually followed up with, 'have you tried funeral homes?')
• "You still don't know what you want to do with your life???"
• "Who will be the first to get married?"
• "Are you still with so and so?" (typically responded to with some version of, 'It's been about a year, but thanks for reminding me')
• and my personal favorite, "What are you doing in Buffalo?"

Now I realize that some people might look at this list and wonder why or how those topics should be avoided. But consider this when you're grilling the younger generation: do we ever turn the tables on you? How's your marriage? Worried about losing your job in this economy? Are you ever tired of living in xyz city? You look like you've put on a few pounds. Are you eating alright? Are you really happy doing that?

Nope. We very politely respond and attempt to distract from the unwanted attention.

As a collective whole this year, I think the cousins quietly acknowledged the desire to avoid such types of questions, but inevitably, everyone spends their time on the hotseat enduring varying degrees of humiliation. It's not as if there are a lack of personal joys or accomplishments that could be discussed. I am sure there are plenty, but the American Dream line of questioning is certainly the most popular. It goes like this:

Topic 1: Job/School or corresponding lack thereof
Topic 2: Marriage/Relationship or corresponding lack thereof
Topic 3: Life Goals or corresponding lack thereof

If you strike out on all three you're in deep crap, you could be on the hotseat for 20-30 minutes, or hours cumulatively if you're properly circulated between the elders. Even giving a mediocre response to one of the three can have you bumbling about for words until you panic and stuff your face with adequately messy spinach dip.

This year, at least, there were plenty of "semi-adult" beverages to ease the awkwardness, but still. If we only see you once or twice a year, at least afford us the social-norms and graces afforded to other similar acquaintances. Ease in to things and don't make it the inquisition or try to solve our life problems (or your perceived versions of our life problems) during a yearly dinner party. Conversations are a two-way street even if you changed our diapers.

And don't forget:
We love you.
Let's try to ease up on the Judgy Wudgy Bear Syndrome. I'll raise my spinach dip to that.

The thing about Philadelphia

I hate being a tourist.

I love seeing new things while traveling, "touring," for lack of a better word, but I hate being a tourist. However, this weekend in Philly I devoted myself to doing just that:

Being a tourist.

Standing in overcrowded lines, sitting in mind-numbing traffic, wading through massive tourist groups of Japanese teenagers...That sort of thing.

You cannot go to Philadelphia and not see Independence Hall, The Liberty Bell and the historic district. Or at least that's what I thought. The Bell is big and historically significant, but certainly nothing to get your panties in a pinch over. After a two-hour wait (partially in the rain) to obtain tickets to Independence Hall, I was unpleasantly surprised to discover that many guests bypassed the ticket line and were still allowed entry since no one was checking tickets. The guided tour was interesting, but I was kinda irked to hear,

"The only thing original in this whole building is that chair."

A CHAIR?

I just got tickets and waited for two hours while ticketless people cut ahead of me in line to see where the Declaration of Independence was supposedly painstakingly drafted in the suffocating heat of the 1776 Philadelphia summer and the only original thing you've got to show me is

A CHAIR???

Sure, it's a chair where George Washington and Ben Franklin sat now and again, but really? I could have watched National Treasure and gotten the gist of the place.

The building has been "historically renovated" to restore it to its "original splendor," but there's just nothing that original about renovation. I should give them credit for not charging for entrance, but it's still a big hassle getting in the place, even in off-peak season.

I realize it's a lot to ask that 200-year-old furnishings and artifacts are maintained, but the Colosseum has a higher percentage of original materials and I'm pretty confident it's more than 200 years old.

Okay, enough complaints about the chair. I probably could have avoided the debacle all together if I would have seen Jen14221's Philly tips on twitter, but I missed out. Maybe next time. On to the highlights instead...

The Philadelphia Cheesesteaks were good, my friend Christina took us to the original place, Pat's King of Steaks. I ordered it "wit" and with provolone, which in retrospect I realize was a mistake. Cheez-whiz is the only way to go.

The Eastern State Penitentiary is also well worth a visit. During October evenings it turns into a ridiculously popular haunted house, but with ticket prices starting at $20, it's worth seeing the place during daylight hours. I assure you, it can be equally creepy. The ESP is one of the world's first penitenitaries, with an estimated 500 other prisons in the world based on its model. It's creepy, decrepit, interesting, authentic and home to Al Capone's former jail cell.

My advice? When in Philly, skip the chair, go to prison.