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“I feel alive again.”

I say it a multitude of times at the 510ft cheesesteak event. The instant we approach the tables, enveloped by a mass of enthusiastic spectators, a feeling embraces me like the hug of a long lost friend. This is an experience. 

Let’s get it out of the way early. I’m not here to debate technicalities. One large roll vs. individual rolls. One large traditional cheesesteak vs. each chef’s individual flair. What I care about is a human, who loves a city, had a vision, and executed that vision to a spectacular degree.

Our evening begins at the end. Are we even at the event if we don’t walk the entire length of chopped, meaty, goodness? Dodging event goers, taking running, action videos, recording the dramatic length, we stop here and there, taking note of how many eateries have come together to support one man’s vision. To support each other after a year-and-a-half of no business, slow business, struggle. Geno’s, Tony Luke’s, Delco Steaks, united. Here because Rene said,

“Let’s make it happen.”

After contemplating that this cheesesteak may have no end, we finally reach the first table just as the blessing is given, and Rene announces, it’s time to eat.

It’s a respectful frenzy.

Our plan is to make our decisions wisely, but quickly discover that our lack of immediate action, could lead to no cheesesteak at all.

I swipe a piece of smoked brisket cheesesteak from Backyard Heroes Competition BBQ Team.

Savoring the juicy meat, I work my way down the line.

A huge fan of mole, I imagine that South Philly Barbacoa, created this mole cheesesteak just for me.

A girl stops me.

“Can anyone just grab one of these?”

“Sure. You can just take one,” I reply.

“What? No way!” Her face lights up with wonder. Her wonder lights up my face.

In 15 minutes, the entire cheesesteak, is annihilated.

Festivities continue post-cheesesteak. There is singing on the stage, and of course it wouldn’t be a Rim Café hosted event without some bongo playing by Rene.

As the sun dips behind the South Philly buildings, the street lights burst to life, and the dance party begins.

A favorite moment of the evening involves a guy riding his bike down the street. He pauses, marveled by the unexpected frolic. He sets down his bike, jumps into the group, executes some sweet dance moves, grabs his bike, and pedals away.

After what feels like a year-and-a-half of winter, everyone here is shedding sadness like a burdensome coat, hopeful for sunnier days.

When visitors ask me what they should do when visiting Philadelphia, I always say,

“You must visit Rim Café.” People comment about how often I seem to visit. Yes, I do go for the indulgent hot chocolate, delicious cannoli, and tasty gelato, but I also know I’ll come away with something I can’t stuff in my mouth, inspiration.

The kindness and generosity of Rene and Belle is contagious. Rene is always doing, always planning, always creating. It makes me want to plan, create, do more.

As monumental as a 510ft cheesesteak is, the event was about so much more. It was about people passionate about food, working together, sharing their creativity. It was about human beings, friends, strangers, and newly-made friends, getting to see each other’s smiling faces, in person. Smiles were abundant. You could reach out and touch the joy. Everyone celebrating the hopeful closing of a challenging chapter, ready to see what amazing stories lay ahead. Although Rene and all those who volunteered their time and cooking skills gifted the city with the world’s longest cheesesteak, the real gift was the return of joy.

I watch as a man wearing a horse mask, struts to the Mummer’s Golden Slippers. I’m in the moment, immersed in the experience. It’s crazy, bonkers, wonderful, and I whisper,

“I feel alive again.”

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