Phillies vs. Reds June 28th

Sometimes things work out in a funny way. Routinely I tried to research the various ballparks which I was due to visit, scoping out the best route to get there, the unique features and if there were any particularly signature foods that I should look to try. Philadelphia's Citizens Bank Park time and time again came out as the most kid friendly ballpark out of all the parks in the Major League. "How fortunate!" I thought to myself, "I'm a big kid who'll love all the fun kid's attractions."

It was true, too. The park had all the amenities of modern Ballpark, with great concourses, specialty eateries, and shiny neon lights. Off in the back, however, was the Chuck-E-Cheese of the baseball world. There was almost an entire theme park for everyone from ragamuffins to rapscallions to run amok in. Sure there was a baseball game going on, and I watched a good portion of it, but for this park, for this moment in time, we're going to review the things that really mattered.

There was the Run the Bases Attraction: A simple game designed by some ingenious engineer wanting to tire out his kids, Run the Bases consists of three kids on running pads quick-stepping as fast as possible to push their respective Philly Phanatic character towards home plate. Anyone who has ever been blessed with the family fortune, or friend with a family fortune, back in the heyday of their youth, however, learned from the Nintendo Power Pad that you could always get faster times by punching the pads with your hands instead of your feet. Kids these days with their Wii wands and Wireless Guitar Heroes don't know crap.

The other kid toy I found myself enamored with was the Gigantic Batter Up game. Taking another cue from the distant past of my childhood, this dead on ringer for the Play Ball! pinball arcade game evoked memories of my precious allowance being soundly invested into swinging a mechanical bat at a pinball all for the glorious prize of a 2 cent baseball card. Incredibly, I don't think that this one distributed baseball cards, and probably cost 5 bucks a pop.

As I sat staring at the memories of these arcade replacements of actual athleticism, I noticed that I was receiving stares by passer byes. As I told you earlier, things work out in a funny way. At first I thought that I was simply looking particularly good that particular evening, despite the Chinatown Bus ride and Colonial touring about that had occurred earlier. I thought it could be a recognition of the shared spirit of my own inner child with those children gleefully playing away in their youthful innocence. I thought that it could have been a number of things, but these thoughts all turned out to be wrong when I realized the true root of the people's stares. Congratulations to those of you who picked it up from the first photograph. For those of you who didn't, the answer to the stares lies here.

Philadelphia

Philadelphia, in a cracked nutshell

After arriving in the City of Brotherly Love, following a memorable first trip on a Chinatown bus, I set off to soak up the history of Freedom's birthplace. When wandering the streets of Philly's newly renovated historical district, a keen observer will notice something rather quickly. The entirety of Philadelphia's economic foundation rests upon people dressing up in Colonial era clothing. Dressing up the part, but acting--living--the part as well. I suppose that you should respect those actors who are so dedicated to preserving the spirit of colonial America that they refuse to break character, but it sometimes got to be a bit weird. Such as the replying of my "Hey, whats up man?" to a friendly, cane wielding wig wearer with a "Ahhh, hah hah HAH! And a Good Day unto YOU, my good Sir!" Seriously? This has got to be an exhausting job.

I majored in History back in the day, and there are parts of the past that are more incredible to read about than a Dan Brown Harry Potter sequel (The lightning bolt is a cross, Muggles are the heathens, Harry Potter=Isiah 64:8!!), but there are some things that will forever seem as dull to me as an Al Gore joke. For example, I could really give a tea party's Faux Indian headdress about the Betsy Ross house. But hey, if you like seeing older men wearing too revealing clothes playing dress up with small boys in front of a house that may have been at one time rented by a woman who may or may not have created a garment that lasted almost fifteen years before being outdated, then I wholeheartedly recommend the Betsy Ross House. You know, if that's your thing and all.