All Philled Up

A two-and-a-half day trip out of New York City is a short but entirely magical experience. The first five minutes of the coach bus ride to Philly were surreal — what is this extra-wide, cushioned seat, and how did the skyscrapers magically transform into empty fields? The other 85 minutes of the ride were a sweet, sweet nap.

I woke up in some sort of not-in-NYC zen state, and in the middle of Philadelphia. Over the next two days, my generous host and long-time friend transported me between a turkey meatball/superbowl house party to two incredible brunches

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to a food market with throngs of people lined up for a lunchtime grub of every ethnicity

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to more perfect lattes than I can count.

Oh, and did I mention our little rendezvous at Betsy Ross’s place?

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Or our run-in with Ben Franklin? What about our QT with the folks of the First Continental Congress? When in Philly…

…eat a Philly Cheesesteak, I know. I commit a cardinal sin by passing this opportunity up. The ghosts of the Founding Fathers will surely haunt me forever.

Cheesesteak or no, a mini-vacay complete with good food, plentiful drink, fresh air and the best company made me feel nothing but recharged, content, and All Philled Up on my coach bus trek back north. Watch out, NYC.

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