Pat's and Gino's

I’ve never been to Pat’s or Gino’s.

It’s true. I’ve been living in Philadelphia for almost a year, and yet I’ve never paid tribute to either of these landmarks. This dilemma presented itself to me full force when I was biking home late at night from South Philly. It was pitch dark, with only the dim light of bar signs to guide me. Suddenly, there was a light ahead. Pat’s and Gino’s rose before me, beckoning to me like two neon sirens. The aroma of salt and grease encouraged me to come closer.

I was at a crossroads. The timing was perfect. I was drunk, it was well past any sane person’s bedtime, and both restaurants certainly seemed enticing to my appetite. Which would I chose? Gino’s? Pat’s?

In the end, I drove away, choosing neither. Sometimes, it’s better to have the courage to reject something outright, and know that you are actually better off for it. Sometimes, when the choice you have to make is between two evils, don’t pick either.

I’ve never been to Pat’s or Gino’s.
I don’t think that I ever will.