Ohio to Pennsylvania

Yeah, I know, they touch. Looking at a map, Ohio to Pennsylvania doesn’t seem like much, but somehow we crammed fair few things into it. 

First stop: Pittsburg. Lunch at Primanti Brothers. It’s a Pennsylvania institution and we’d taken the older kids when they were seven and ten. We all had fond memories of cheeseburgers piled so high with fries and cole slaw,  that you nearly had to unhinge your jaw to get that first bite. This time, we sat in relative silence, none of us daring to say what all of us where thinking. Then Tiny, who had no such historic romance with the place, blurts out, “This is gross. I can’t eat this.”

She wasn’t wrong. I mean, it was edible, just not worth revisiting a third time, no matter how many pictures of Jimmy Fallon they have hanging in the entryway.

Is it possible for us to be the absolute tackiest tourists imaginable and still give our children culturally enriching experiences? I’d like to think so. If not, I guess we’re firmly in camp tacky - Mug-n-Bun and pet flies included. 

Rico says that Pittsburg is known for Andrew Canrnegie and Steel. Kooka and I know the truth. Pittsburg is known for just one thing:

And yeah, we made the rest of the family drive 25 minutes out of the way so we could see the home of  Dance Moms. But then we were met with this disappointing site:

Who the fudge is Appolonia Leake? And why is her crappy sign covering up the dance birthplace of queen Maddie Ziegler? Furthermore, am I wrong in saying that “Appolonia Leake” sounds just a little bit like a fake stripper name? What kind of dance is she teaching in there anyway? The disappointment was palpable. We did however, meet a good friend of Abby’s in the gift shop, who told us that Abby was just renting that space to somebody until her prison stint was over. Friend of Abby insisted on calling us “Abby fans” throughout the visit and attempted to hock over priced Abby merch and autographed photos. Needless to say, we are both firmly Team Chloe, and she was notably absent from all paraphernalia, so we took ourselves to the back of the building where the only REAL vestiges of our beloved Tuesday night binge-watching could be found.

But we are acutely aware that the world has bigger problems than the disintegration of the ALDC. Case in point - our next stop.

We decided to take the kids to Stoystown, Pennsylvania to the Flight 93 National Memorial. If everyone in my family had a roadtrip superpower, mine would be something like The Great Depresso or maybe just Sad Girl. I have a thing about memorials - like I’m notorious for it. I just feel like nobody should ever completely disappear from this world, and honoring those who have gone before us, helps me keep their spirits alive. Even the spirits of people I’ve never met. So needless to say, we’ve been to a lot of memorials. The Flight 93 field is both harrowing and peaceful. A sandstone boulder marks the point of impact, an elevated walkway traces the flight path, individual marble slates pay tribute to each of the 40 victims. The walk is long and solemn, giving you plenty of time to contemplate how you would spend your last 30 minutes on Earth.

This brought much discussion in the van, with three of us deciding that the 40 passengers and crew members knew what the outcome would be, and chose to act selflessly and heroically - saving others from a horrible fate, while one of us ascertained that human beings are not that selfless and the fighting was less heroic, and more an act of self preservation. Who knows what the real motives were - maybe they were different for each of them, but I’m choosing to believe in the power of positive, that when times are tough, we really will look out for each other, just because it is right and noble and the only way to heal the world.

Tonight our hotel is in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, which is as close as we can get to Hershey without passing it. Hopefully tomorrow will be sweeter.

(As usual, typing on the road is hard. Auto correct sucks. And I upload whenever I can find service. Sorry for the mistakes)