I've been told that my balls are too big for my britches

I got off the El at 52nd Street. I had planned to get off at 40th, but I kept saying one more, one more, one more. Suddenly I found myself deep in West Philadelphia. Hey, my assignment was to get a good feel for the University City/West Philadelphia neighborhood and write blurbs about different locations and businesses in this area. As I began my walk though, something told me that this wasn't quite the Oz I was looking for (and Toto, I definitely wasn't in Kansas anymore). My first planned stop was at Malcolm X Park, which was actually even further West. So, I started hoofing it. Unfortunately the more I walked, the more I stopped telling myself that I was just experiencing the initial apprehension typical to entering a new neighborhood and started legitimately looking over my shoulder and taking precautions. For those of you who don't frequent the city, there are specific "bad neighborhoods" and situations in which you face a sort of double-bind. You simultaneously realize 1 that you're lost (or, worse, you don't realize you're lost, but strangers begin to point it out) and 2 that pulling out your map/directions or calling a friend would put you in further danger. Luck was on my side in more ways than one. First of all, it was broad daylight. Even though I was collecting stares like Pokemon cards, 1:30 in the afternoon is not exactly a high-crime time, if you catch my rhyme. Second, I have a very good natural sense of direction, which, combined with an overdeveloped self-confidence has served me well in my various endeavors. As I walked, I noticed a pattern. My impression of West Philly was that it is a sort of patchwork quilt type neighborhood- if I may be so bold as to make a blanket statement. Blocks of beautiful old stone homes with gardens and artwork were interspersed with no apparent rhythm with...those other kind of blocks. Okay, I'll admit it, I asked someone for directions. And, since I'm confessing, yes, I intentionally asked a white person. Call me racist if you want. I'll tell you what, had I seen Will Smith, I would gladly have asked him, but, no such luck. Anyway, I found Malcolm X Park, immediately realized it wasn't a place I could in good-faith recommend to college freshman as a good place to check out since I myself wasn't even going to walk through it, and kept going. Now I was looking for Baltimore Avenue. Again, thanks mainly to the fact that I'm pig-headed and refuse to believe I could have been mistaken in my notion of direction, I found it. My walk back towards University City from there was quite enjoyable. Baltimore Ave. had the same patchy pattern going on, but there seemed to be a large hipster population slowly putting down roots. Most of the places I stopped at support this impression. I went to Mariposa Food Co-op, The A-Space (an anarchist community center), Firehouse Bikes, a disappointing thrift store and a store called VIX Emporium that sold artwork/gifts/cat toys? I think? Finally I felt ready to tap into my allotted $10 spending money and headed to Milk and Honey Market. If you don't believe me about the hipster thing, go to M&H. I had a smoothie, which was very good despite the fact that it contained arugula- some people just can't leave well enough alone. Before I knew it, I was back, smack-dab in the middle of University City and all things UPenn and Drexel. I grabbed a sandwich from a joint called Hummus- bet ya can't guess what I ate here- cast a few wistful glances at the ivy covered walls, humming "How the Other Half Lives," and headed back to the office.