The two businesses look very different. Geno's is a neon abomination: whored out in orange and sporting a co-branded Harley dealership, it's an obvious affront to the Heavens, challenging God to strike down earthly, steak-begotten pride. Pat's is considerably more sedate, offering amiable signage and little other decoration. It looks like the type of place you'd imagine Texan high school football players take their girlfriends immediately before accidentally knocking them up.

But the differences aren't just superficial; there's also the question of politics. It's hard to miss the giant placards outside Geno's that memorialize Officer Daniel Faulkner, who, the reader is helpfully informed, was "murdered by Mumia Abu-jamal" in 1981. Of course, vehement opposition to a cause celebre of the far left isn't proof of anything — but it isn't a very good sign. More conclusive: the notices by the order window aggressively asserting that patrons must order in English because this is America (dammit), and that failure to do so may result in service being refused. There's even a newspaper clipping with a photo of the owner proudly pointing at the sign, as if to say, "Hey, check out what an enormous asshole I am! I think it's great." Needless to say, we avoided Geno's.

Admittedly, Pat's is not as expressly ideological; I have no proof that their politics are more in keeping with my own than Geno's. However, buying a steak at Pat's involves spending so much time standing in line — and in so many different lines — that I feel comfortable identifying the management as fellow travelers (Geno's has multiple lines, too, but they have more of an airport security screening/All-American feel to them).

After a slow but successful Saturday experience at Pat's I had expected to be able to avoid Geno's permanently and entirely. But Kriston and Kate wanted to get a last-minute steak as we headed out of town, and the line at Pat's was imposing. We put on our best Walmart-shopper faces and headed to Geno's, where we promptly acquired sandwiches and tried to find a seat that hadn't been covered by the depressing sick that had been falling from the sky all day.

We were only fifty yards from Pat's, but it felt much, much father than that. The line had expanded while we placed our orders, filled out by Eagles fans coming for a post-game snack. The Eagles had just decimated the Redskins, but these fans didn't look happy. Maybe they were still smarting from Senator Santorum's recent defeat; maybe Clinton Portis' broken hand hadn't satisfied their bloodlust. Whatever it was, their eyes uniformly shone with obliviousness, anger, or a combination of the two. It suddenly seemed very cold, and we ate in silence, resisting the urge to compare the meal to Pat's and thereby alert the mob to the presence of outsiders. I remember thinking: this is how Anne Frank must have felt when she ate cheesesteaks.

We finished, climbed in the car and escaped into the rain-soaked evening. So, the verdict? Well, Pat's had better bread, and their battered, Burger King-style fries were — although objectively unremarkable — superior to Geno's completely uninspired frites. But the most obvious difference was the sandwich: Pat's chopped the steak, resulting in a gooey mass that seemed more like a confused cheeseburger than a sandwich in its own right. Geno's kept the steak whole, which initially inspired confidence but ultimately backfired due to my having a more precise awareness of exactly what I was eating.

If I had to choose I guess I'd cast my lot with Pat's, even before considering the political dimension. But mostly I have to vote for c), None of the above. The sandwich at Geno's reminded me that I used to eat cheesesteaks all the time: they fed them to us with regularity in Arlington public schools. And they were fucking gross. The meals I had at Geno's and Pat's weren't much different from those awful school lunches — except each cost $11 instead of $1.35. Next time I'll stick with the jumbo sliceria at the market's north end.

Photos by davechiu, Greg S. and LHOON, used under various Creative Commons licenses