Honestly, who outside of the U.S. has heard of Scranton, PA before? Then double down and ask yourself what you know it for. The only reason I knew about it was that there was a rumor that Andy Warhol had been born there. It turned out a birth certificate produced by some shyster turned out to be a forgery, or as authentic as a painting (or a hundred of its copies) just cranked out of Andy's factory in New York. But that was the extent of my Scranton trivia.

Writers, and later the film producers, have rarely gone on record as to where their fictitious tales take place, even more so when that story becomes a TV show designed to draw the maximum audience. Don't you want a broader appeal? Don't you want people to live in a Springfield, so that each state with a Springfield (or at least a state neighboring it) can root for their own? How about Oakdale? Star City? In many shows, you can afford to leave the actual name of the town (actually big city) in it...the bigger, the better. L.A. and New York stand alone here, with frequent appearances made by San Francisco, Chicago, or Boston. Then there's Pittsburgh. How much lower can you go? Until this day, I admire the producers' decision to have The Office staged in Scranton.

Whenever I watched The Office with Liebi (my kids love it too, by the way), we would hear the music, see the opening credits, and then cheer five seconds into the intro, when the sign that says "Scranton welcomes you" makes its appearance. I kept telling Liebi, "That's me. I'm goin. I am SO goin'." Liebi would shrug, reply, "That makes one of us." I still hadn't seriously planned to go to Scranton until Bash warmed up to the idea after watching dozens of episodes starring Michael Scott, Dwight Shrute, and the rest of the gang. After we decided to go on a road trip the last week of our summer vacation, there was no going back. Scranton, here we come. 

We pass Gettysburg on the way there, but I decide we'll catch Gettysburg on the way back. Pennsylvania itself is how I always remembered it. Rolling hills followed by never ending forest. We roll into Scranton in the afternoon and waste no time getting into town, Jade in tow. We walk around town, and there are some charming old buildings that have lost none of their pizzaz, including the courthouse. We find the Scranton sign in the mall, take a picture with the dog. Bash insists on going to Alfredo's, because he can't leave town without eating their pizza. We look at the map. 1.2 miles from where our car is parked. Looks like a nice day for a walk, doesn't it?

The servers at Alfredo's are fantastic, make a big fuss about Jade, whom they wine and dine. Jade's tail now is on auto wag. Bash orders the wrong pizza (he wanted a pepperoni, after all), but still declares it the best pizza he's had all year. Just when we finish our food, it starts to drizzle. Then it starts to shower. Ten minutes later, all hell breaks loose and we're wondering whether to go back by taxi or boat. No boats anywhere around here, so let's try the taxi services. No dice from anyone, and that's a hard no. 

I shrug at Bash. We'll have to wing it, I tell him. We storm out of Alfredo's like Butsch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, our goal the next bridge about 200 yards away. We make it, but are already drenched by the time we get there, as is the dog. We should have believed the weather report, I suppose.

We take it 100 yards at a time and find shelter in a doorway of The Salvation Army. Again, little by little, bucket by bucket, we make it and then take a moment in the car. All we want is a shower now and a cool motel room, as does the dog. Bash and I can remember many travel destinations, but we'll remember Scranton just as much as the others. We watch a couple of Office episodes before we turn in. 

Definitely worth a visit, although what we'll remember it the most for will be, again, the wrong thing, a rainstorm that absolutely drenched us. Which will be more than fitting for the next day's destination.