Ask any Philadelphia resident where to get a good cheesesteak,

and he or she is sure to have an opinion- a strong opinion. Pat's and Geno's are just a quick walk accross Passyunk Ave. from each other, and their bright neon signs are visible far into the city.




Our conference offered busses each night for a late night Geno's run so that we could finally learn what a "wiz with" was (steak sandwich drowning in cheez wiz with onions). I ordered clumsily, like only an outsider could, one cheesesteak provolone-with. I tried to order a drink at the same time, which was annoying to the workers in the steak-only window, but they forgave me because I'm white (more on that in a second). We received all of our food, and settled into our little booth, finally to taste this holy grail of Philly fare. It tasted just like the Phillys I've been eating for years at Chili's, but on much tastier bread.

After eating, we had a little time to peruse the scores of pictures with celebrity cheesesteak aficionados, and read some of Geno's signage. The building is plastered with such gems as "Stay if you're legal, if you're illegal LEAVE!", and "This is America, when ordering, do so in ENGLISH!" Lovely. Ah, the City of Brotherly Love.



After we ate, we ran over to Pat's. They had slighltly more on their menu, perhaps to compensate for their lack of oh-so-catchy racist bumperstickers, and a plaque commemorating the spot on which ol' Rocky the slugger himself had stood during the filming of at least one of his fourteen or so films. Being that it was nearly midnight, I did not want to try eating a second cheesesteak, so I cannot give a food review. I did, though, prefer the atmosphere at Pat's. The giant neon sandwich on the apex of Geno's freaked me out a little.