Wild. Exotic. Pennsylvania.

I don’t like doing things, traveling especially. On days off and vacations past, goal number one has been to not leave the house. But after a hard winter, a hard February specifically, when weather and exhaustion from our biggest special section of the year pinned me inside, laying slack jaw and half off the couch, praying that it would all end or that the freedom of summer might come, I decided I was going to do something this year.

But like I said, I don’t like doing things. Flying, for vacation, a time meant for relaxing, is too much of a hassle, and I don’t like normal things like amusement parks, filled with huge steel contraptions meant to trick you into thinking that they’re going to murder you, fling you 300 yards onto the pavement of the parking lot or fold up on you, separate your limbs from your torso like some sixth-grader with a spider.

So what’s left? Pennsylvania. Wild. Weird. Wonderful. Convenient. Pennsylvania.

I read dozens of Associated Press stories every day with datelines around the state, places I’ve never been, and sometimes even, places I’ve never heard of. I want to fix that.

I wanted to start with some close ones like Punxsutawney, yes, the home of the whistle pig weather man; Johnstown, the home of our country’s greatest flood; and Lancaster, the home of the Amish, our greatest anthropological anomaly. You know they have their own language, right?

But there’s other things I need to see. I’m kind of embarrassed to say I’ve never been to Philadelphia, although Parking Wars makes it seem my Malibu will be instantly impounded; the PA Grand Canyon, although I’ve heard it’s not that grand and barely a canyon; and Pottsville, Pa., although it’s home to Yuengling, the country’s greatest lager. No although.

The plan was to head East toward Philly, up toward Scranton, do a little Office sight seeing, head along the top of the state and back home.

But I’ve come up with some other great ideas. The Scranton-Wilkes Barre Yankees will be in town the week we’re going through and I’ve never been to a minor league game. Some of you are saying, but you just saw the Pirates a week ago. Well, you know what? They’re above 500 so you can shut your mouth. And between Philly and Scranton, kinda, there’s a ghost town, Centralia, Pa. In the early 60s a coal fire started under the borough, and now 50 years later, it’s still burning. They say you gotta watch your step or you’ll slip right into the pit of hell. Eh, it was bound to happen eventually.

So I think the itinerary is pretty rounded out, but if you have any other ideas let me know. I’ve already been to Hershey and Harrisburg, Pittsburgh of course and Lake Erie, the Sturgis Pretzel House Factory in Lititz, Pa., and the Zippo factory in Bradford, Pa., but there’s gotta be something I haven’t thought of.

I just purchased a Canon ELPH 300 HS and plan to document any cataclysm we should happen upon. I mean the chances are good. It’s like the Bible Tour: Great Flood, Eternal Fire, Murder Capital of the World.


One Response

  1. Hi, I log on to your blogs daily. Your humoristic style is awesome, keep up the good work!

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