How to be the worst tourists in Philly (but still have a great time)
The best way to beat the Boston February doldrums is to, well, leave. So, strapped with backpacks and duffle bags four of us flocked to our friend living in Philadelphia for the weekend. We were shiny and happy, with most of our attention focused on each other, Devon’s dog, and eating. Therefore, we made terrible tourists. Two of us (myself included) had never been to Philly before. We didn’t leave South Street. Anything historic was vehemently protested. Instead, we managed to drink in more places I thought possible, shop at everywhere from an anarchist bookstore to thrift shop, and get Big Gay Ice Cream without facing the New York lines. The closest I got to a tourist trap was passing by the Magic Gardens and Jim’s. I have no sense of the city, and I couldn’t be happier.
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