So, here's the thing

I’ll walk.
There’s no way I’m running. That would be too obvious.
Step after step after step. I’m close to the top now. I should run, just up the last couple of steps. No, that would be worse than if I would have just ran all the way up from the bottom of the steps. But, who knows when I’ll be in this position again, and no one here knows me. What to do, what to do? Oh, last increment of steps! Think fast!
I know. I’ll run up the last steps in a mocking way, that way anyone watching will simply think I am making fun of “tourists.”
I take off, mad dash the rest of the way. As I reach the top, I throw my hands in the air and turn to see the view that Sylvester Stallone saw for the first time some 33 odd years ago – the heart of downtown Philadelphia.
That was last Wednesday. If you’re wondering what in the world I was doing in Philadelphia on a Wednesday morning, then you are not alone. A week later, I’m still asking myself that question. In a way, it just happened.
I had thought about going to Philadelphia over the weekend, but didn’t for the sake of writing papers and studying for exams. Cue Tuesday. I thought about skipping my evening literature class, but acknowledging that would be slipshod on my part I opted instead to put the trip on hold. I went to the class, and the professor gave back our midterm exam grades and then dismissed class because she was ill.
I trust in three things: signs, my gut instinct and the fact that I will never understand Lady Gaga’s popularity. The latter being irrelevant, I always trust my intuition, and when there seems to be a sign, some strange occurrence that seems too random or too perfect to be coincidence, staring me in the face, then I believe the universe to be giving me a go-for-it. With my initial gut instinct having no negative persuasion, I got in my vehicle and drove to Philadelphia.
I arrived late Tuesday evening and did some sightseeing.  I awoke early the next morning, did some more sightseeing, spent a lovely morning/afternoon in the city and then came home.
Was it impulsive? Yes. Was it crazy? Maybe. Was it naïve, reckless, hasty, out-of-control and borderline certifiable? Perhaps.
But so what. I live my life completely responsibly — always. I know responsibility. It’s my middle name - Caleb Responsibility Whisenant.
So, here’s the thing, I don’t know what I was thinking, or if I even was thinking at all. I do, however, know that the 12 or so hours I spent in Philadelphia were amazing. I have never felt so alive. There was a heightened sense of awareness coursing through my veins.
Responsibility is important. It’s a virtue. But, balance is also just as important, and every now and then it’s OK to act on one’s impulses. Healthy even. I can attest to this — the view from the top of the steps of the Philadelphia Art Museum is a million times more breathtaking in person than it is in the movie.

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