At least the cream cheese is nice.

"Maybe it will start getting better soon"

We used this phrase at least ten times as we drove through Philadelphia. I've got to admit, I felt a bit stupid.

See, I thought (silly me!) that Philadelphia was a city in America, right. But as it turns out, Philadelphia is a horrible slum district in deeply corrupt and dilapidated central Africa. Who knew?

Note: this is sarcasm. (I know that you know that. But Americans seriously DO NOT get sarcasm. AT ALL.)

The road we were driving down wasn't a road. It had no road markings. It was in fact an old tram track, and yes, it was exactly as uncomfortable as that sounds to drive on.

We knew it was bad when the streets were no longer metal signs, but instead just handwritten pieces of paper; weather beaten and cellotaped on. And there were no traffic lights, either, just a fat man casually waving the cars along with a spliff in one hand and a small handgun in the other.

OK I made up that last bit to sound more interesting. But the rest is true.

It was intimidating. Every stop put extra strain on the fabric of the underpants, and I silently drafted my will on pen and paper.

Our trusty sat nav, Soothing Richard, had led us wrong, and Philadelphia, which had looked very nice from the bridge, had turned out to be the worst night of an otherwise excellent trip.

Thankful for the intact-ness of our car windows, we turned around and headed back to the motel just across the state line.


We ordered Domino's pizza to calm down.

Casino

I'm up $120.
 I was going to give you the benefit of my experience of traveling through the east coast of the United States, but right now I'm up $120, and that's all that seems to matter.

We sit at a roulette table at the Taj Mahal Casino. I only started with $20, convinced it was already lost before I'd started. But now I'm sitting with $140 worth of chips.

 And I promised myself I'd give up at $100.

 I keep betting on 17, and it keeps coming good, and suddenly I find myself up $180.

I'm doing well, I think to myself. Given that I came into this casino expecting to lose all my money, and I know I'm not stupid enough to bet all my money, so I'm definitely going to come out with a profit. A profit for having fun. It seems weird. I can see how it gets addictive.

But as I place down my largest ever bet ($25 between 17 and 20) a new guy pulls up a stool at the table. And casually as anything, drops down two $1000 chips. He promptly loses his money, and leaves the table immediately.

It's a reminder that in the grand scheme my $160 extra dollars means nothing to this casino.

I eventually get up to $220 dollars just as Dave runs out of money. I call it a day.

The name on the casino is Trump. It's ridiculously rich. That $200 I won, means something to me. That's enough to pay for three nights in a hotel for me and Dave. But for Trump's Taj Mahal Casino, and the high-roller men who can afford to toss away 2 grand at the spin of a wheel, it doesn't deserve a second thought.

It's another example of the incongruity of rich and poor in America, and you see it everywhere.

We celebrated my winnings by heading to a $2 a pint bar and meeting a friendly/hyperactive American girl named Kristen (from Connecticut).

I like Atlantic City.