Philadelphia Freedom

Day 13, we’ve made our way to the City of Brotherly Love. We get in about 7pm Monday night. We need to check out by 11am Wednesday. We decide to jam as much in as we can in these 36 hours. We stop at the first Irish Bar we pass, and have one quick Guinness. We proceed to make our way around Headhouse Square checking out the Monday nightlife. We encounter bearded hipsters, loud drunk girls, specialty ham platters, drinks with absinthe, a very angry purple haired monster, an Andy Cohen lookalike contest winner, a friendly bartender and a very confusing relationship between a drunk Irish guy and a drunker lesbian. They are making out and she keeps crying. I can’t stop watching this last exchange. Check please! If I don’t leave, I’m going to start asking these two questions.

This is none of my business. This is none of business. This is none of my business.

We pay the check and get the hell out of there, because this is none of my business, right? Right! None of my business.  Not bad for a Monday night.

We get up nice and early Day 14  morning – put on our walking shoes and hit the streets of Philadelphia. We manage to get ourselves to Independence Hall and take a tour, brush up on some American history, and agree we both equally hate this family from Georgia, or Alabama or wherever people who say things like “Say Stinky Socks!” when taking a picture of his family come from. We stop by the Liberty Bell, take a couple of selfies. We get on a double decker tour bus and somewhere around stop 3, the guide informs us that stops  9-14 are going to be eliminated from today’s tours because the streets are closed. Those are the museum stops, the only stops we were interested in getting off the bus for. We get off the bus at the stop 8 and start walking. We find the Rodin, it’s closed, apparently the Philadelphia Museum of art is also closed. There are barriers and police everywhere, there is some kind of rally going on in front of the Museum of Art. BOO! No Rocky stairs for us. The president of the United States of America is travel philadelphiaon his way to this rally. This is why all the streets are closed. We decide to wait and see what we can see. It’s not everyday you get to be in the audience of the American President. There are secret service everywhere, and so are the crazies. The motorcade goes by us and it is impressive and exciting. After a few minutes he has come out and is stumping for Hillary. He’s not telling us anything we haven’t already heard and this crowd is making me nervous, we need some lunch. Bye Barack. We grab a bite and hop back on the bus. From our perch we roll on by The Betsy Ross House, The US Mint, Chinatown, The Friendship Gate, Reading Terminal, Love Park, Cathedral Basilica, Logan Circle, the Franklin Institute, Avenue of the Arts, Society Hill, and finally we hop off at Headhouse Square. We walk back to our room to freshen up (read: rest like old people). After an hour or so we’re off again. Now we’re going to see what Philly really has to offer. It’s Happy Hour. During this tour we stop for a beer and or a snack at  The Boyler Room, Irish Times, Tavern 22, Twisted Tail, O’Neal’s Pub, Bridget Foy’s, Paddy Whacks, Cavanaugh’s HeadHouse, and finally the South Street Diner. We got a lot of bang for our buck! We also noticed a lot of these bars had posted on the wall friendly reminders that pregnancy & alcohol do not mix. Umm…who needs this? And it wasn’t just once. It kind of explains the purple monster though.

Day 15 morning we roll out it’s time to start heading north. We have plans to stop in the Mystic Seaport in CT, take in the sites, maybe the Aquarium, do some shopping and then maybe hit the casino on the way home. We’re in the car, the sun is shining, the traffic is moving, our Murica hangovers are kicking in. We’re stopping for lunch, but we gotta get back on the road, the dog is waiting for us. Maybe next time Mohegan, maybe next time.

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