Hey Team,

So far things are going better than I could have hoped. Well, to be honest, Philadelphia was kind of a mixed bag and much closer to what I would expect the rest of the trip to be like: Lots of incredible history and more than a little trudging through pouring rain.

Now this is a story all about how my life got flipped, turned upside down (Seriously, is there anything better than obscure television references?). I landed in Philly around 5am and by 9:30 I had managed to leave the airport by a train to the center of the city, which in Philadelphia is called Center City (Clever, eh? Try to keep up.)

The first thing I noticed about Philly was it’s striking similarities to Los Angeles. Okay, by striking I suppose I mean not very remarkable and by similarities I mean similarity. But here’s my point: Philadelphia has a lot of very tall building that they use as canvases to paint ENORMOUS murals on (very much like LA). The big difference is these murals aren’t advertising Spider-Man 3 or Ratatouille, these murals are all very historical because…golly, these folks love their history like Californians love to complain about their taxes.

Having catalogued every similarity between Philly and LA I could find with that one meager observation I started making my way towards Independence Hall to try to catch the first ceremony of the day. Luckily I ran into a fellow traveler, Jessica, along the way. And even MORE luckily, she had a MUCH better sense of direction than I do. I spent the better part of the day being shown around by my Nashvillian (It’s a word…I promise. Don’t bother looking it up.) tour guide and saw some amazing stuff before we went our separate ways later in the afternoon.

Which brings me to the parade. Now admittedly, I’ve kind of been ruined by Disney and now I have a certain negative bias towards parades because I’ve seen so many done so well, but I was really hoping for more than a MUCH larger version of a neighborhood parade. Although at one point I had to do a double take because I could have SWORN I saw a beach ball with hair.

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Then I realized it was eating a corndog. Beach balls don’t eat corndogs.

That was right before the fourteen hours of near straight misery.

Looks like that story will have to wait a little bit, cause…

I’m done.

Brett.