The Philadelphia Story

This past weekend I headed very slightly south to visit the little sister at her current stomping grounds in Philly. It was a beautiful spring weekend, which involved a great deal of ambling around outdoors.

I'm not sure if it was my bright white jeans, or my new haircut, or my sister in a short skirt, but at some point I noticed that everywhere we went guys were blatantly staring at us. At first, I just assumed that's par for the course on a college campus and the co-eds were mistaking me for a college student, or even better, a high schooler attending Admissions weekend.

But then when we were walking on the street to our hotel, it didn't cease. At some point, we actually got honked at. So now, I had to chalk it up to the fact that we were both looking particuarly fly that day, or way more likely, that guys in Philadelphia are not as smooth at checking girls out as the guys I'm used to in New York City.

I mean it, the men in this city have checking out down to an art form. Their eyes seemingly never stray from their blackberries, and yet they can report minute details about the women they pass on the street, down to a hot girl's bra size if so needed.

I have no idea how they do it, because when I check guys out it's the most obvious thing in the world. I haven't exactly mastered the art of being subtle, in any part of my life, so scoping out men is no exception. My friends burst out laughing in the middle of streets and bars because they see me pause, do the once over, and then assess whether he's hot or not.

Which leads me to wonder where all the men here picked up this skill. I mean if I stop paying attention for one second when I walk down the street, that's the moment that I trip over a fire hydrant or almost get hit by a bus. So, how do all these guys manage to multi-task to the point where they're replying to work e-mails and looking up the Yankees score WHILE checking out women? It's unbelievable!

Maybe I just have really bad peripheral vision and this is a sign that I'm getting old and need my eyes checked. Or I'm just not as observant as the average male on the street. Or I get distracted easily. (Oh, is that guy hot? I can't tell. Let me get a closer look. Oooh, a Mister Softee truck forget it! I want a vanilla shake!)

In any case, I am going to get to the bottom of this mystery, because if I can learn the secret to surreptitiously ogling people without them noticing, well, I think I am well on my way to a life of a secret agent.

Or at the very least, I can check out guys without the hassle of falling on my face in the process. Which is really nothing to take for granted once you've walked into as many garbage cans as I have.