it was a beautiful weekend. the sun was out, the sky was blue, the wind kept up on our toes. we were wearing red, white and blue; stars and stripes. i brought my picnic blanket and we had a good time playing games, doing photo shoots, asking stupid/epic would you rather questions, throwing peanut m&ms, and gorging ourselves in a manner befitting an american holiday.
and then the next day we played tourist. and old town philadelphia is beautiful. the old buildings, the cobblestone roads, the big trees, the horse-drawn carriages of the not-amish. it felt very american. and we definitely enjoyed the backdrop of independence hall.
and perks of having your bag stolen? bypassing the long security lines. all they ask is "twirl, please." and twirl i did. plus, i got good jumping practice with all our old-timey jumping pictures.
and like any good group of twenty-somethings, we danced just right on the line between immature and enthusiastic. so when we found ourselves in front of independence hall, i wanted a picture of me at the front door. because why not? and also duh. so i skipped up the steps and thought lol what if i knock? so i knocked. i made a big show of it, tried opening the front door, pushed down the nob and everything. as you can see, it's been documented.
and then as i walked away, skipping back down the stairs to everyone else chilling in the shade, the doorknob starts rattling and i watch in surprise as this old security guard opens the doors and looks around confused. we start busting up laughing as she comes out to check for...someone. but i wasn't gonna raise my hand. we just laughed, she went back in, and that was the time i doorbell ditched independence hall.
it's probably the greatest thing i've ever done.
turns out hotel management don't like letting people into their prepaid rooms if they don't have the credit card to prove they are the ones who prepaid it. #respect, i get it. but waiting for twenty minutes at 2 in the morning for a grumpy manager to grudgingly hand me the keys aint so fun. "DON'T charge anything to your room," they say. and i'm like, please, we ordered in our own pizza, duh.
well, we were happy to get out of there come morning. so happy we were jumping for joy.
only problem? we decided in the elevator was the best time to click our heels up. allison was like "jump on three" and 80% of us followed orders. one. two. three. crash.
the elevator stopped moving and we stopped laughing.
for about a second.
half of us thought it was hilarious; the other half, not so much. but we were in stitches, giggling over, one, the tension; two, the fact that it actually happened; three, that of course it happened in philly; four, that we were literally stuck in the elevator. i was slightly panicked we'd be charged some fee--like they have a "you break it you buy it" elevator policy in place. but we made the best of a bad situation by 1) laughing 2) giggling behind our hands when people got annoyed we were actually laughing and 3) taking elevator selfies. (but first, let me take a selfie...)
when they finally came to open the doors (ten minutes later), we were trying to corroborate a story. just in case. but they forced open the doors--and we'd only made it three feet down the floor--so we just climbed out. they had a worker on hand who started apologizing profusely. like "we are soooo sorry this happened to you. i am sooo sorry. do you need anything? can we do anything for you?" and we just booked it out of there, like, "no worries, we're good. byeee!!"
"sorry for breaking your elevator" was not mentioned.
here's them rescuing us. she looks like superwoman and we appreciated it.
see this post. and imagine me crying with a stuffy nose. the amounts of snot that came blubbering out of me was not insignificant. also, the after photos of my cry face are pretty horrific. we won't show you pictures. but, hey, the fireworks were awesome. the show was great. and the company was sweet. so i can't complain* (*but i will).
so philly got a place in my heart, that's for sure. a dark, sad, diseased part of my heart where i store only the most hateful memories. but, hey, it left it's mark. it was a city i knew i wouldn't like, so it made sure that i would not like it the most. Philly: 1532650 Shelby: 0.