Where's the gift shop??The Pennsylvania Road Trip

Spud had some extra time to kill during his trip to Philadelphia, that he decided to pull out the map and head off into the Pennsylvania countryside in search of some intriguing tourist destinations.

While the country certainly was beautiful, there seemed to be a lack of the tacky tourist traps that Spud longs for. The tato finally saw a glimmer of hope, when he spotted the world's largest paint can at the side of the road. Certainly this must be a big draw for tourism, he thought to himself, however the Chamber of Commerce certainly didn't realize it, as there was no apparent effort to exploit it to the max.

There was no gift shop flogging mini paint brushes or rollers. No mascots of Benjamin Moore making baloon animals for the kids. No vending machines selling crushed pennies with images of the paint can. No overpriced snack bars selling Eggshell semi gloss flavoured ice cream...

Spud shook his head at the thought of the millions being lost thru the town's lack of marketing.

Back on the road, the potato came upon the hamlet of Hershey, PA: the home of Hershey's Chocolate; the company responsible for 2 out of 3 dentists' livelihoods. Now the tourism bureau of Hershey had it going on, touting Hershey Chocolate World; a theme park dedicated to pushing their sweet product in every concievable way.

2 out of 3 successful dentists recommend eating as much chocolate as possible

Spud had heard that chocolate is comprised of serotonin and phenylethylamine, which have long been considered to be aphrodisiacs. Apparently others knew that too, as the queues for the samples were large as were the waistlines of many of those standing in them. Oddly enough though, as much chocolate that the patrons consumed, the potato saw very few afros.

The tater slipped in his sweet tooth so that he could partake in the free handouts. After gorging himself on kisses and peanut butter cups, it was time to hit the road again.

As Spud surveyed the map, he felt a sense of euphoria building within as he spotted the climax of his visit to Pennsylvania: a trip to the town of Intercourse.

Looking at his watch though, it would have to be a quickie

On course to Intercourse

For some reason the town signs are often stolen from the road side leading into Intercourse, but Spud arrived shortly after new ones had been erected.

Before heading in Spud made sure he had protection, in case the Amish hamlet turned out to be as crime ridden as Philadelphia had been.

Fortunately, he didn't need protection as the town was so small he was in and out before he knew it. Good thing too, as he had heard that if one spends longer than 4 hours in Intercourse, that you could suffer from priapism. Perhaps that's why some of the local Amish were walking funny.

Rush Hour in Amish Land


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