When JG and I made plans to spend some of our spring break in the Poconos, we had two main objectives:
- Relax
- Go snowmobiling
Unfortunately, (relatively) warm temperatures eliminated snowmobiling from our itinerary, so we spent our days sleeping in, ordering in breakfast, working on crossword puzzles, and general drifting around. It was great. But not so much picturesque. Sure, we had a nice view from our little balcony, we had fun taking advantage of the enormous game room, and we stopped by an old haunt for a nice lunch, but really — relaxation does not photograph in a particularly entertaining way. Just take my word for it: the Poconos treated us well.
In the planning process, we also made a point to spend time JG’s aunt and uncle, who have been entreating us to come visit ever since I met his aunt at my bridal shower a mere three years ago. Before we headed out to our Poconos hotel, we spent the weekend at their house, just outside Scranton.
Yes, Scranton. As in The Office. As in the home of the third-largest St. Patrick’s Day parade in the country. This was going to be good.
Upon our arrival, JG’s aunt ushered us into our room and immediately presented us with sweatshirts because “you have to have a sweatshirt if you’re going to the parade!” I was planning on wearing a super-green sweater, but a drunken Irishman on my stomach would fit the bill, too. JG and I donned our parade garb and headed out for a short tour of the city before the parade started. But let’s not get our priorities mixed up! Knowing that we were fans of The Office, JG’s aunt made a beeline to where she had heard there would be an Office tent, and we snagged fun t-shirts and an autograph from Andy Buckley, who plays David, the CFO! It was all very exciting.
I am not really a parade person, but the St. Patrick’s Day Parade in Scranton is something to behold. Oh, there was the usual parade paraphernalia of clowns, majorettes, animals, and motorcycles. We got an eyeful of shriners and wacky floats, and local businesses made a showing alongside historical groups. It was clear, however, that Scranton’s parade-viewing audience was no ordinary crowd. I was astounded by the sheer volume of people packed into the downtown area, dressed in all sorts of green get-up that made my sweatshirt seem downright tame. Mini-skirts, knee socks, boas, puff-painted shirts, and tall hats were just the beginning for this creative mob. The festive atmosphere made way for the Dunder Mifflin limo, bearing a non-waving Andy Buckley, and there was a rumor that Hillary Clinton would walk through the parade route. (She did, eventually.) Giant campaign signs, including green “O’Bama” posters, were out in full force. Despite what could have been a derisive environment, everyone we encountered was generally good-natured. Scranton did itself proud.
Between informative anecdotes from JG’s uncle (a high-school history teacher), local pizza, and a shopping trip with JG’s aunt that yielded two cute — and cheap! — bags, the rest of our weekend was lovely and uneventful. It was so nice to see JG’s aunt and uncle, take in the sights of Scranton, and then have some time alone. I declare my three vacation days well spent.
