And here are more of my industrial piercings:
We make it and as we approach the Margaret-Orthodox Station, Chris and I notice a gang of African American boys sit on the stoop. They are friendly and say hi to us, we respond and walk through the door and make our way up the rickety escalator. You could tell this station was old; it was a bit dirty and just the way the building was built showed its age. I couldn’t wait to get out of that station; it was hotter in there than the sun that beat down on us as we waited for the J. Chris and me walk over to the ticket office, hand the SEPTA man our transfers and waited for the El to take us to Fifth Street via westbound to Sixty-Ninth Street (I didn’t realize Sixty Ninth Street, the Upper Darby side of Philadelphia) was that far from the Northeast, but a traveler learns something new each time they go on an adventure I suppose. As Chris and I wait for the El, to make sure we were on the right one, I ask a native African American Philadelphian that walks by us if this was the El going to Sixty-Ninth Street. She shakes her head yes. I jokingly say to her, “Whenever I travel, the locals become my best friends,” and she laughs, but nods her head in agreement.
The anger in the El’s roar disrupts our conversation. The furious roar permeated the whole station and echoed through the hot, sticky air.
When the El finally slows, the doors violently slide open releasing frigid cold air onto us. I step into what I would imagine weather to be like in Siberia and Antarctica. I let out a long sigh of relief; Chris and I pick the nearest open seat and we sit down to cool our sweaty bodies.
I feel a bit more comfortable on the El this time, although by the end of the last trip I loved the El; I believe riding with a friend makes it a bit more enjoyable in regards to having someone to talk to.
e are released from our Antarctic sanctuary back into the surprisingly humid underground of the El/subway station. As Chris and I make our way out, we hear the loud hum, hum, humming of the fans going. It’s not doing any good; I laugh and think to myself. The droning fades as we pass through the revolving doors to make our way back into the hustle and bustle of the metallic jungle.
The bright yellow sun shocks the eyes of everyone coming from the underground, but the humidity is a familiar demon that we had to battle for five minutes through the maze of the station.
We stand on Fifth Street for a few moments and decide if we should go get pierced first at Infinite or go to the hookah bar on Third Street first. I suggest to Chris, “Maybe we ought to go to Infinite first to get pierced since it closes at 8—“
Flutes, penny whistles and drums linger in the background. I instantly know that the Revolutionary re-enactors are around. Chris spots the tents in front of the Constitution Center and we both unanimously agree that we should go see “men dressed up and playing with rifles” first, even if only for a half an hour.
Chris and I walk across the grass past a few Revolutionary soldiers shooting the breeze and taking a water break. I don’t blame them, however, if I was wearing a wool uniform on a 95˚ —100˚ with humidity—day, I’d be taking multiple water breaks and passing out in the Constitution Center under the air conditioning.
The Margaret Orthodox Station. Originally known as the Margaret-Orthodox-Arrott Station, the Margaret Orthodox Station opened in 1988 with much controversy. As I looked up the history for this travel narrative, I came upon an archive of newspapers from 1989:
After a year of waiting, nothing much has changed for those Frankford residents angry over the new Margaret-Orthodox station and other SEPTA reconstruction projects for the worn-out El.
"The station doesn't function for anyone who is elderly or handicapped. Plus, it's horribly ugly," said Joyce Halley, a member of the Historic Preservation Committee of the Frankford United Neighbors/Community Development Corps (FUN/CDC).
Neighbors fear that future restoration of the Frankford terminal might turn out the same way. "That's scary," Halley said recently. Peter Hanlon, a SEPTA spokesman, said SEPTA planned to meet with the group next month to continue discussions. He said no final decisions had been made on renovations to the Margaret-Orthodox station or changes in the Frankford terminal plans.
Lini S. Kadaba. “The Events That Shaped '88.” The Philadelphia Inquirer. 01 January 1989.
Accessed: 06 July 2011.
 I type “surprisingly” because I expected something underground to be cooler than above ground. From my experience, our basement is usually cold in the summer, unless it is really humid and/or the air conditioning is on. I suppose if it is humid above ground, it’ll be a bit sticky underground. I wanted to do a Google search and came upon this via Answers.com. Although it is dealing with New York City, I am sure Philadelphia does the same thing:
The New York City subway is ventilated by surface air. If it's hot outside, that hot air freely enters the subway through the open grates that you can see as you walk the city streets. The cars are also air conditioned, which surprisingly generates heat in the tunnels. Also, when the cars brake, they generate heat through friction. Add the fact that there is no breeze and the dampness of the subsurface and you have conditions that are often nastier than they are above ground. It isn't a wine cellar that's for sure.