Remember that Seinfeld episode when they couldn’t find their car?
I think the picture speaks for itself. We’re rushing, slightly panicked. Thing is, though, we were in the wrong garage. Everyone makes mistakes and for some of us, it was a first-time visit to the city, and we really didn’t know the streets and the buildings after two hours. All parking lots look the same. Big, brick boxes just crouching there silently, waiting to trick you. The good news is that we re-grouped and piled in:
It was one of the day’s highlights. Six women in a car, driving to another destination, and without the guidance of a brilliant star in the sky. But we do have wise technology in the car, which brought us here:
The Christkindlmarkt at the Steel Stacks, home of the once-booming Bethlehem Steel Company. It was an odd juxtaposition of old and new, light and dark. We marveled at its size, its complexity, its rust. In fact, this campus–or whatever it is you call the resting place of a great American industry–was far more interesting than the shopping inside. Perhaps it hit me harder than the rest because my grandfather worked here as an electrician during the robust 40s and 50s. I remember the exodus of men from all over the region who travelled here each day for work. I was feeling slightly Scrooged inside, but then just like Ebenezer, I looked around. Not at the industrial decay, but my friends. We had a wonderful day in the Christmas City and vow to return, this time remembering where we left our car. And like all vulture adventures we left with the best present of all. A memory and a story to re-tell for years to come.