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I drove us out of New York City after a quick bite from a tiny place in Chinatown. The almost three hour drive to South Hadley went by in a snap - I was so excited to get home for a day and time was on my side. We pulled in around 10 p.m. and my dad came up the walk silhouetted against the kitchen light where my mom was standing with her nose up to the screen door.
We hung out for a short time and then hit the hay excited for a chance to regain our bearings the next morning by repacking our car, catching up on some posts, planning for a few more days in the future and celebrating my dad’s birthday a few days early.
The day was broken down into three major parts for me. Part One: Breakfast at the Lovelace’s, Part Two: America in 100 Days and the Case of the Overstuffed Car, and Part Three: King Kamehameha.

I. Breakfast at the Lovelace’s

My dad’s scrambled eggs are pretty much the stuff of legends among my and my brother’s high school friends. The morning at my parents' house, I woke up without an alarm around 8:00 and hurried downstairs to the smells of fresh brewed coffee, frying bacon and scrambling eggs. Delicious! I sat in the kitchen while my parents cooked all this food, and my mom toasted bread and washed native strawberries too. Once the food was done we took our plates to the dining room to continue our leisurely Monday morning.

It reminded me of Sundays before church when I was growing up where the newspaper would be spread across the table and the whole family was smiling and crunching bacon between their teeth. My mom was taking me on a quick errand I had to run just as the boys were waking up so my dad sat and kept them company while they enjoyed his incredible eggs.
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II. America in 100 Days and the Case of the Overstuffed Car

I’ve told you about the car situation. It’s a real bummer. Joey and I had a lot more stuff in our apartment than we expected to, as I’ve mentioned, and a quick rearranging session at Lela’s in D.C. wasn’t enough to remedy the space issues we were running into. Well today was the day we had been waiting for. Today we got to unpack the whole car onto my parent’s driveway and do it over. We were all super pumped.

Joey set up the video camera across the driveway and we let it capture the whole scene as we took every piece in the car, from the largest duffle bag to the smallest battery and put it on the driveway in different piles (camping, clothes, books, things we don’t need, things we need ready access to, etc.). My mom and her “Mah Jong Monday” pal, Nancy, were having a great time chatting on the lawn with their coffee as they watched us.

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Nancy is big into the America in 100 Days idea and has done cross country trips of her own a few times before. She was getting a big kick out of all the stuff we had strewn across the driveway. Her son Kenny came by for a little bit as well and enjoyed a peanut butter sandwich on the lawn with the ladies.
We were able to eliminate a bunch of stuff, and Joey and I even repacked a few bags so they contained less and fit better back in the car. Doing this lifted a huge weight off of my shoulders. We can actually see out the windows now, when Bern comes in Pittsburgh and Chicago there will actually be room for her and we didn’t need all that stuff anyway so it’s great to not be hauling around a bunch of random junk! Joey sent the video he took over to Tom who sped it up and put it to music courtesy of his former roommate, Ian. It looks great guys - check it out, America!

III. King Kamehameha

My dad sometimes calls himself King K because his birthday falls on the Hawaiian holiday called King Kamehameha Day. The reason anyone in my family all the way in Massachusetts knows about that is because my mom was born in Hawaii and grew up on the island of Oahu. My mother and I have the same type of skin, so if anyone knows about sunburns it would be my mom. She told my brother and me the story of King Kamehameha who was the Hawaiian leader responsible for conquering and unifying the islands (he backed the last opposing king and his army off a cliff which took care of things nicely). His great success earned him a permanent spot on the Hawaiian calendar and on June 11th every year his statues are covered in flowery leis.
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My dad’s birthday, happening to fall on this historic day, earns him the right to refer to himself as King Kamehameha, because why not? 
So it wasn’t actually June 11th, but my mom had a great meal planned from appetizers to cake and the boys gave my dad a bottle of wine which was very nice of them to do. After dinner, dad ripped into his presents and after cake the three Lovelace’s taught the boys our family game called Russian Donkey. This game originated from my mother, and since no one else has ever heard of it I credit her with making the rules.

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So even though we didn’t see much of my little neck of the woods we all had a great day relaxing, catching up, spreading out and eating a lot of really great food. Thanks Mom and Dad! It was great seeing you! I miss you both already.

Our next stop would be a 9:30 whale watch three hours away from my home in Cape Cod, so, until next time America.

~Sarah 


 
To this point, we felt as if New York had gotten the better of us somewhat. We were losing. Our Friday in town had been nixed in favor of a minor navigational snafu, and our Saturday, while spectacularly enjoyable for the most part, was marred by frustration on the city streets as we flailed and floundered from one traffic jam to the next. Sunday was our last day in town, and the three of us were determined to kick its teeth in.
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A relatively early rise gave us ample time to cab it over to Central Park. The weather was sensational, and offered us up a park full of people to watch. Frisbee-throwers, sunbathers and general purpose relaxers made colorful dots all over the park and showed us a relaxing New York scene that we'd not yet encountered. After our two days prior, you'd think the words "relax" and "New York" wouldn't fit together in a sentence.

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Central Park shows us an impressive spread of open space, monuments and even some wooded areas - certainly a rare find in this bustling city. But with so little time to spare, it wasn't long before we had to move on to our next attraction.
And by move on, I meant walk about a block to the world-famous Metropolitan Museum of Art. If you're devoting any time to the arts in New York City, this is the one place that truly can't be missed.

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The Met has a collection that just doesn't quit, featuring paintings, sculptures, photos and artifacts from all over the world, many dating back hundreds or even thousands of years. It's an art student's dream, and instills an appreciation in even the most casual of patrons. The museum is so large, and the exhibits so vast, that anyone is bound to find at least one room they won't want to leave.

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One of the most useful sections of this museum, which I fear goes disproportionately underutilized, is the museum's viewable archive space. Yesterday's visit to the Brooklyn Museum showed us a space of a similar nature, where what seemed like mountains worth of artwork lay carefully organized and catalogued, hiding behind glass cases until their next bout in the big game (the main exhibit space). If you ever come across a museum with archives you can openly peruse, don't hesitate for a moment.

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Next on our plate was about a half mile walk to the stunning Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum – the exterior of which was so unique that I felt like I should have paid admission already. The building was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, as part of his vision of a city comprised not of soulless skyscrapers, but of tasteful structures that would contribute to a beautiful, tasteful and evocative skyline.

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One peek inside the building made me an immediate follower of Wright’s philosophy. This museum was designed like nothing I’ve ever seen before, with one long, winding walkway spanning five floors, and various exhibit halls branching off along the walk up. The displays featured prominently the many architectural works, designs and blueprints that Wright and various other artists had conceived, primarily during the last century.

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The museum’s collection was complimented by a smattering of gorgeous Impressionist, Post-Impressionist and modern paintings, comprising a welcome contrast to some of the museum’s somewhat technical concentrations. There was even a section devoted to artistic contributions from students at regional grade schools. This was a different experience than I was used to, a truly enlightening visit among what I must say was one of the calmest, most respectful crowds of museum-goers we’ve experienced thus far.

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Last on the ol' agender was a taxi ride back to Midtown Manhattan, to the Museum of Modern Art, or the MoMA. This place is also a big deal in museum-rich New York, home to some of the most eye-opening, sometimes shocking works that I've ever come across. Across from an extensive library and research area, through a colorfully decorated courtyard lies this vast expanse of culture and vision. And as I very much expected, it was an eye-opener, a wondrous look into the minds of some of the world's contemporary artistic pioneers.

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There were items on display that I've seen in countless forms elsewhere, whether in prints, calendars, postcards or what have you - some truly famous (and sometimes infamous) items, spanning a space that, for some reason, I'd expected to be smaller. Not the case. This place went on and on, and the 5:30 p.m. closing time was the only inclination pushing us toward the door. At this point, I was ready to conclude that a proper NYC museum tour simply requires more time than we were able to offer up.
That's not to say we didn't get our money's worth. The price tag on an experience like this is of zero significance in comparison to the imprint that even a single visit has made on me.

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We rode cloud nine back to our car, where a parking ticket for $115 promptly lowered my cloud level. You just had to get the last laugh, didn't you, New York.
Determined to come out on top, we shot into Chinatown for a bite before we left town, and were thoroughly satisfied with our findings. I only went as far as sweet & sour chicken, but I'm still just getting my feet wet. The next few days would no doubt provide me with some memorable culinary capers.
Upward and onward, we left for Sarah's parents' place in South Hadley, Mass. More on that very soon.

-Tom

(From top) Photos 1-6 by Tom Stanley; photo 7 courtesy of The Solomon R. Guggenheim Museum, Thannhauser Collection - Gift, Justin K. Thannhauser, 1978; photos 8-10 by Tom Stanley

 

Sarah did a splendid job of summing up our long day's activities from this past Saturday. I, for one, have been to New York City about a dozen times or so, and never spent much time outside of Manhattan.
This day's activities, however, saw us venture into Brooklyn during the afternoon, and Queens in the evening. And in both places, we visited spots that I felt should be elaborated upon somewhat, based on my utterly spectacular experiences at each.

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Our drive from the Upper East Side to Brooklyn was nothing short of a nightmare, a blindingly frustrating experience that I should have known better than to attempt. Scenes from an old Simpsons episode breezed through my memory during the whole drive.
But to the victor go the spoils - and what marvelous spoils we found in Brooklyn.

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The Brooklyn Museum lies on the Eastern Parkway at Washington Avenue, and just happens to be the second-largest museum in New York. This place came as an immediate shock to me in its tremendous size and gorgeous layout. Interior space was used in such a layout that it truly accentuated the impact of the works on display - really brought them out to shine.

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The museum's collection included an impressive collection of ancient works from Egypt, China and Greece; paintings and sculptures that I've seen dozens of times in print; and a surprisingly extensive collection of eclectic modern art.
If you're in town, and you've never been, this place will steal your face right off your head. And if you can manage, try to drop in on the first Saturday of the month, when admission is free in the evenings.

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Later in the day, when we'd returned to my friend Paul's house in Manhattan to meet up with Kelsey and Bill, Joey had made it very clear that he didn't want to sit around at someone's house and drink cheap beer out of a can. We can do that anywhere.
And ultimately, he was right. While my brain had been utterly fried by the terrible NYC traffic, there was no arguing with him that a trip to the new beer gardens in Queens was the best way we could be spending our time. So he briefly worked his powers of persuasion, and sent us all trekking toward the subway for Queens.
I get a little anxious about some bar experiences, I will admit. I've had far too many experiences in the past (primarily in Manayunk and West Chester, back near home) where the atmosphere in the place is just far too crowded, the people are too aggressive, the wait for a drink last ten minutes while you wait behind a sea of idiots in popped collars. Show me a bar filled with popped collars and I'll show you the back of my head as I walk out. Why pay for an atmosphere when it's nothing short of a terrible atmosphere?

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Studio Square was not any of those places. This was nothing like any bar or drinking establishment I've ever visited. The place was wildly populated, yes, but with a tremendous amount of space to move, sit, stand or whatever else was on your agenda. The focus was on beer, with a delightful spread of imports and craft beers on tap. Once Joey handed me a giant stein of Stone IPA, there was no turning back for me.

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The primary sitting area was open-air, making ample use of the newfound summer weather, with hundreds of people occupying numerous rows of picnic tables. We found a corner and kept it for all four or five hours that we stayed. We bought pitchers of beer to share among the five of us, which eventually gave way to an extra lining of food in the form of three different types of sausage - kielbasa, bratwurst and weisswurst. They had plenty of other selections, even sushi, but when in Rome...
This was our most expensive day yet, not so much because of overpriced drinks - they were reasonable - but for the fact that we just couldn't leave. It seemed like weeks we spent inside that glorious place, weeks that I only wish I could go back and revisit for but a moment.
As Sarah said, this place made us go directly to bed, and dream sweet dreams of the grown-up playground we'd discovered in Queens. I'd go back any day.

-Tom

 
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The car is packed in the most stressful manner you could imagine. The person in the back seat is in a cave of pillows, blankets, silverware, backpacks, books, plastic cups and chargers of all sorts and does not have the ability to see out the back or the opposite side window. From the backseat you only have the front window and your own open for you to see out of and you have to sit with two laptops on your legs, Joey’s wires, my Nalgene bottle and Tom’s notebook on top of that, which all together are pretty heavy to have on your lap and because you’re surrounded by all that stuff and the sun coming in you get really hot. But this story is about New York City.

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I was looking at our site from my laptop in the backseat. I had anchored everything in the car down as well as I could manage to reduce the possibility of it falling on my head. It was dark and raining. It had been raining all day which made it a pain to drive for an extra long time (especially since I drove us way out of the way…). My attention was suddenly drawn to an influx of light coming from over the top of my laptop and outside the only two windows I had access to. New York City! I was surprised at how excited I was right away to see those city lights.

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Friday night had been taken up by driving to the wrong state, and then into the city, so once we got to Tom’s friend Noah’s Manhattan apartment and our backs hit the couch we weren’t going anywhere. Saturday was much better. We slept in which was really nice. First things first we drove to Brooklyn, which is lesson number two for us here at America in 100 Days.

Lesson one: Do Not Move Unless Everything Is Just Exactly Perfect. In other words, don’t let the GPS direct you anywhere if you don’t have the full correct address plugged in.
 
Lesson Two: Public Transportation Is There For A Reason. Use It. As in do not attempt to drive your car from one parking spot to another if you intend on having fun. If your purpose is to really mess up your day then driving in the city is your best move.

The GPS has trouble in the city. So not only are you bombarded with a ton of people who are absolutely positive that you’re in their way, but the GPS is frantically telling you to “turn left, turn left, turn left, recalculating, turn left.” By the end of the trip we were sure there was something screwy with the GPS since the only apparent way to drive anywhere in New York City’s five boroughs was left. The boys playfully mocked my GPS (named Mrs. Wellington and set to have a British accent) by adopting the accent and female voice and repeating the hated phrase, “turn left, turn left.”

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On Saturday, after a long drive to Brooklyn and a great picture moment under the Brooklyn Bridge, we headed straight for the Brooklyn Museum. What a place. I have a feeling you’re going to be reading a lot about it elsewhere, so I’ll leave the details up to the boys. What I enjoyed the most though, was the room full of wavy black lines. It wasn’t the lines specifically but the way they made the walls seem like they were flowing around you. If I had a couch, a bean bag chair and a window, that might be my favorite room.

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After the museum it was time for a late lunch at Grimaldi’s. Tom was driving (thanks again, Tom, city driving is a tough job) but parking is a task and a half in the city. Eventually Joey hopped out of the backseat to hold a place in line. Tom and I looped around the block a few more times and after a while I hopped out too and ran across the street to stand with Joey while Tom idled somewhere around the corner.

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The line was long. The sun was staring down at me and my pale, already burnt skin in this line and it was getting hot. Soon after no apparent line motion at all, a tall older man with white hair popped his head out of the door like a groundhog might on their designated weather prediction day in February if not for being pulled out already. This man called in as many people as had just walked out and the line inched hungry forward. We were just taking our food to go rather than eating inside, so I went to investigate the sign on the door to see if it mentioned that people like me could order faster. Not the case. The sign clearly read that people eating in the restaurant and people taking food out without sitting were to stand in the same line.

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But as luck would have it, this elderly line manager eventually did call on people who wanted to order take out and allowed one in the party to brave the inside. Joey was the lucky one in our pair and made a good call of ordering not only the traditional cheese pizza but also a white pizza and each slice was more delicious than the last.

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From here we were pretty tired of trying to driving around so we headed over to another of Tom’s friend’s houses and parked the car for the night. Once we had sat for a little bit inside and regained our sense of motivation Joey convinced us all to head over to the new Studio Square beer garden in Queens, and Tom’s friends Kelsey and Bill (shown here) gladly led the way.

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What a fun place - as soon as you walk in you see a long stretch of sunlight coming from on top of a set of stairs across the room. We ordered our drinks and followed that light to a busy seating area outside. Dozens of long dark brown benches stretched out before us in neat rows and hundreds of happy people talked with their friends under the lingering early summer sun.

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We dragged ourselves away after a few hours of hanging around and hit the couches at Tom’s friend’s Paul’s with heavy heads. Sunday was our museum tour day and then we were off to see my parents. I was getting very excited to get to the South Hadley stop on our trek across the U.S. It was time for a relaxing day, and remember that car problem I was telling you about?… it was high time we fixed that.

Until next time America.

~Sarah

 
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Our Friday began by waking up at Bernadette's house in Conshohocken,moving leisurely toward the car after saying goodbye. I'm comforted by the fact that Bern is not only coming out to visit us for the 10,000 Lakes Festival in July, but also might be joining us in Pittsburgh during Father's Day weekend. The sooner, the better, as far as I'm concerned. She is one special lady.

Before we left town, we needed to satisfy that one craving that inevitably begins to boil in my belly whenever I approach Philadelphia. That craving, of course, is for a cheesesteak. This magnificent sandwich is indigenous to Philly, created by Pat Olivieri during the 1930s and adopted today by hundreds of restaurants, delis and sandwich shops as the preferred method of fighting hunger.
Anyone who's not from Philly will probably tell you the best cheesesteaks come from the old rivalry in town - Pat's, the originator, and Geno's, the competitor. You can find these two dinosaurs directly across the street from one another at Ninth and Passyunk.
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They're 100% wrong. In fact, it's this truth that makes me distrust any food travel program that talks about these two places like they're the cat's new pajamas. They're tourist traps, the both of them, with overpriced food in smaller quantities than what you'll get at a modest, hard-working establishment like Dalessandro's, at Henry Ave. and Wendover St. in Roxborough. There are a lot of places in Philly where you can get an amazing cheesesteak, and this one was always the closest to my house. Anytime I drive by and don't stop for a bite, I always end up regretting it a minute later.

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But some people might argue with me that Dalessandro's is lacking in some regards. Examples: 

-Dalessandro's features a variety of beer in six-packs, but does not feature a full bar.

-Dalessandro's does not carry Cheez Whiz as an option for their sandwiches, though it has essentially become the standard at the touristy spots we discussed earlier. These guys won't budge.

-Finally, had we decided to visit to Dalessandro's on a Sunday, they would have been closed altogether, laughing at our disappointment from the comfort of their homes. Monday through Saturday, they're in full swing; Sunday, they give their bats a rest.

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Enter Chubby's. Directly across Henry Ave. lies the second half of what I consider to be Philly's modern cheesesteak rivalry - a far more relevant competition for yours truly, simply because a cheesesteak from either of these places is just endlessly superior to either Pat's or Geno's.
Chubby's steps in where Dalessandro's chooses not to, saying yes to each of those three stipulations I mentioned above. Full bar, Cheez Whiz available, and open on Sundays. With this rivalry, there's actually something to distinguish one place from the other, rather than merely a bunch of flashing lights and an ignorant sign in the window.

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We did the only reasonable thing we could think of, and got three cheesesteaks to share between the three of us. One with Whiz from Chubby's, and across the street, an American and a Provolone from Dalessandro's. Fried onions on all three, because without them, you're not really eating a cheesesteak. It's like a hot dog without mustard, fries without ketchup. They just don't make sense, period.
We sat in the car and indulged in one after the next, starting with the Provolone from Dalessandro's (amazing) and followed it with the Chubby's Whiz (also amazing). The Chubby's steak was very amply sized, but both the Dalessandro's sandwiches were gargantuan. They had to weigh a pound and a half each.
We ended with the Dalessandro's American, and despite its slight loss of heat while it waited for us, and the fact that we were nearly full by the time we got to it, it tasted the best. Both places gave us some great food, but Dalessandro's won today's battle. Cheers.

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Sarah summed up the majority of our day in her most recent post, and I don't care to do it again. Let's just say we made a wrong turn a leave it at that.
But when we did finally roll into the right Plainfield in N.J., we sat down for a quick pizza dinner with my grandmother, my Aunt Susie (both shown here) and my grandfather. They wished us all luck in the world, with my granddad adding, "Don't look back."

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From there, the drive into Manhattan was only about an hour, but with the sun down and the rain falling rapidly, we'd missed any chance to get out and see the city. I'm sure it winds up being the first in a long string of irritating lessons to be learned.
Thankfully, awaiting us in Manhattan with open arms were my good friends Kelsey (shown here) and Noah from college. Noah was kind enough to offer us some of his beverages and a place to crash for the night. His place, in the upper east side, was just what we needed after the baffling day we'd just had.
Sleep was a necessity. We had plenty catching up to do here in NYC. Check back soon for coverage of our weekend in town.

-Tom

 

Tom says he’ll keep an eye out so I reach forward from the driver’s seat and turn off the GPS. Might as well save battery power, I think to myself.

A second later a soft snap demands my attention.

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“Let me have that GPS” Tom says, “this does not look like the Plainfield that I know,” he says he wants to double check, something isn’t right. By this point in the trip he should be able to recognize the streets so that he can direct us to Seventh Street, where his grandparents live.
“Wait a minute… is this set for Plainfield, Pennsylvania?"

I let out a little gasp.

We are supposed to be going to Plainfield, New Jersey. I just drove us three hours in the wrong direction.
The sun, I swear, it’s bleaching out my hair. Blonde moment #1… stay tuned.

-Sarah

 
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I worked very hard for the last year to make this trip possible. For my part, saving enough to undertake this endeavor meant working seven days a week, every week, between doing public relations at PUNCH Media and waiting tables at the Great American Pub in Conshohocken (shown here). Exhausting as it was, this hard work strengthened my resolve and sharpened my character, if not contributing to my cynicism on at least a moderate level. And in the meanwhile, I made some terrific friends, including my lovely lady Bernadette, for whom I have the Pub to thank.

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So of course, to show my gratitude, we dropped into the Pub on Thursday night to enjoy some good food and beer. Our waitress was none other than Bernadette herself, who started us off with a pitcher of Dogfish Head 60 Minute IPA and a heaping plate of delicious calamari.

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I directed everyone's attention to the right places for our entrees - Sarah went for the Fiesta Chicken Salad, Joey for the Angry Chicken, and I indulged in the Baby Back Ribs that I'd always wanted to try but never got around to. As is typically the case when I'm eating something particularly sensational, I was sweating profusely by the end of the meal. The more I sweat, the more satisfied I am - and I was one sweaty gentleman on this particular evening.

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Some friends came by to say hello, like my fellow server Kate, and our executive chef, Miguel (Mike to his friends). It's such a stand-up place, that Pub, that I just wanted to bring the whole staff with me.

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...Which is obviously impossible. There's just not room in our car for all those people. So I settled for a consolation prize.
The Pub is owned by the Hemcher family, who have treated me very, very well in the time I've been working for them. Among the family are four brothers - Tim, Chuckie, Sarge, and Tommy - who posed for a picture a few years back. That picture has been hanging in a quiet corner of the bar for as long as I've worked there.

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Not anymore. To show my gratitude to the Hemchers, I decided to pry this photo off the wall and bring it with us for the entire trip. Wherever we go this summer - Niagara Falls, Bourbon Street, the Grand Canyon - the Hemcher brothers will be with us the whole way. I couldn't ask for a better group of companions, aside from the two "real" people with whom I'm traveling.
So look forward to a terrific summer of sightseeing, fellas. You'll be having a blast whether you know it or not.

-Tom

 
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Penn Museum occupied a hefty portion of our day – a full four hours – which left me just delighted. It boggles my mind when people tell me they’ve never visited before, probably for the fact that so many parts of the museum make my jaw drop to the floor every time I visit.

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Afterwards, it was time to fulfill my familial obligations while we were still in town. We drove north for a spell, up to Doylestown to drop by my grandfather’s house. He’s a very busy man these days, taking exercise classes every morning and practicing with a singing group in his free time. So I was fortunate to catch him during an off-hour. We sat down and caught up for a while, discussed our grand plans for the summer and what will come in the time after we arrive in Portland. That second part is a little more open-ended than the first for right now.

Bidding farewell, I dragged my companions along for a visit to the Main Line, a section of the Philadelphia suburbs that’s probably most famous for being home to a slew of rich, snobby, stuck-up people. I grew up on the Main Line, spent my whole life there before venturing away for college when I was 18. And if there’s any single reason that I’m packing up and moving across the country, it’s to experience something different from this. Don’t get me wrong, I can’t even begin to name all the wonderful people I’ve come to know in my time in this area – but a person should only stay in one place for so long. My life is for living, not shopping and driving BMWs, thank you very much.
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Regardless, we drove to Berwyn to visit my mother, our dog and our three outrageously fat felines. Our visit was brief, only long enough for my eyes to start watering before I had to leave. We drove to West Chester, about ten miles away, where I experienced the same painful process of saying goodbye to my father and my younger brother, Gabe. He’s heading off to college in Florida this fall, and this is probably the last time I’ll see him – or any of these wonderful people – for quite a while.
I’m filled with joy for being able to undertake this fantastic task of spending a summer however I want. Likewise, I’m thrilled to experience life in a place I’ve never been before, far away from home. But the feeling is bittersweet, especially as we drive further and further away from the people I love the most in life.
This is part of growing up, of finding my way, and now is the time to do it. But I will keep these people close to my heart, no matter how far away from them I happen to be.

-Tom

 
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(Written on the road en route to New York City)

This post is going to get better and better as you read it.  Hold on to your shorts.

Our experience at Penn Museum started out with a behind the scenes look (!) with Interim Head of Conservation Lynn Grant and Assistant Archivist Maureen Callahan, both of whom immediately agreed when I asked if I could videotape what they were saying.  Below are three amateur, unedited videos, about eight minutes each: 

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This was followed by a fast-paced tour of the museum’s artifacts by Dr. Elin Danien, the curator of the of the museum’s new installation, Painted Metaphors: Pottery and Politics of the Ancient Maya.  Sarah and Tom were snapping away for this speedy highlight of all of the most exciting areas of the museum.  I don’t know that many have had this opportunity (I certainly hadn’t before this), but if you ever have the chance to take a tour with the curator of an exhibit in a museum, jump at it.  It was by far the best tour I have had of anything, ever.  

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In addition to the deep knowledge of each of the artifacts we were walking past, Elen shared interesting snippets about how the museum acquired some of the items. Many of the museum's artifacts were acquired through the university's past archaeological digs, and the museum takes pride in accepting only legitimate acquisitions into their collection.
Even with the healthy pace at which we were chugging along, it didn’t feel like we were missing anything.  In one room, two or three highlights, maybe a quick press off a button to hear a sample of an ancient instrument (or some other interactive display), and on to the next room before the five seconds of the music had played.  She did an fantastic job of explaining how these many different cultures played into the way we live our lives today.

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Following this we went for a sushi lunch in the cafeteria with the museum’s press officer Pam Kosty and Dr. Pat McGovern (at right). Our talk with Pat was very interesting for several reasons, but the topic that we really discussed during lunch was his nontraditional entry into the world of brewing.  After scraping and analyzing residue from a 2,700 year old drinking vessel found in King Midas’s tomb, he worked with (who else?) Dogfish Head to recreate concoction of barley, honey, saffron, and of course, beer and wine mixture to create the best bottle of “malt liquor” I have ever tasted.  We followed up sips of this nine percent ABV brew with two 12% Palo Santo Marron drinks. Between the five of us, we split three bottles total. It was enough.

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What an experience! Our time at the museum ended with another walk around for pictures that we didn’t have time to take on our first rotation, capturing highlights from ancient Egypt, Africa, Greece and all the world over. This was our longest stay at any museum thus far, and I was still in no hurry to leave.

We made sure to take plenty more photos, which you can view at our Flickr photostream. Otherwise, if you’re in the town, there’s no excuse to miss this place. It will make your shutter finger sore.

-Joey

 
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“People run up and down the Art Museum steps all day long, dude.” Tom sort of rolls his eyes after Joey asks if he should take a picture in front of the Rocky statue.
“Yeah, I was sitting across the street waiting for you guys and all these kids in white shirts were running up and down doing the Rocky fist pump at the top of the steps,” Bern tells us.
Joey gets ahead of me on the steps a bit so I kind of jog up the stairs just trying to look like I’m just catching up but secretly giggling to myself, just like Rocky!

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We wandered all over the museum floors and by far my favorite rooms were the rooms that looked like the outsides of buildings on the inside of the museum. We walked through a Japanese Teahouse (at right) and a French Cloister and I wished I had a house I could make to look like those displays.

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There was also a room full of armor. There were statues of armor clad knights on similarly fashioned horses ready to ride into battle. Long glass cases displayed helmets, chain mail, horses’ helmets, swords - the whole nine. I was star struck by all the crazy battle apparel and unbelievably thankful I do not live in a time where people wear that heavy stuff and fight to the death in the field across from your shack of residence.

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After the museum, Joey, Tom, Bern and I headed over to meet up with some of Philly’s finest residents - George, Chris, Sarah and Sam. Tom had arranged for us to go to Rum Bar on Walnut Street, so we all trucked over there after blogging a bit in the living room of George and Sarah’s new house. 
Rum Bar was awesome! I was immediately tickled by the fact that the rum menu looked like a traditional food menu and the food menu looked like the drink list you would see at most places (i.e. the rum menu was huge and the food menu was small- which makes sense - it was a rum bar, after all). Tom took charge of ordering for the three travelers - he got the two of us daiquiris and Joey drank rum on the rocks. He especially enjoyed his Flor de Cana Black Label Five Year ("It knocked my socks off"). We all got a kick out of tasting a little bit of everyone’s different drinks, but soon it was time to use the little pirate’s room (a.k.a. the bathroom). I loved the fact that The Pirate’s Code was covering one whole wall. Nicely done, Rum Bar.

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We decided to take our crew next door to the Irish Pub after thoroughly enjoying the food and drinks at Rum Bar. John, our waiter, graciously served us though we were loud and I can only imagine a bit obnoxious. I think he had fun with us though. I told him all about our trip - about how it was day four of one hundred, that we were going everywhere - the whole schpiel. I made him take one of our business cards and took his picture as incentive to check our site - I hope you do John! 
We came back and crashed hard on Sarah and George’s couches. We woke up early and headed out for a really amazing tour of the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology. More to come on that very soon.

Until next time America.

-Sarah