City of Brotherly Love, Here I Come

What does a New Yorker do when seeing Madonna perform up close is all but impossible, when all the great seats are tied up by Her management, ticket brokers, and industry hangers-on? When seeing Her once or twice in New York from slightly farther than would allow a moment - nay, glimmer - of interaction just does not suffice?

Why, go to Philadelphia!

That's right, I am headed to the so-called sixth borough for the Confessions Tour. As a result of a slight moral compromise, I have in my hot little hands second row tickets at Philly's Wachovia Center come July 13.

Second row.

It hasn't sunk in yet.

I am no stranger to Philly and absolutely adore it. I'll use any excuse to hop on the death-defying $10 Chinese bus and spend a day or two there. There are many reasons why it's so dear to my heart. Not only is the city historically significant and pocked with landmarks (the Liberty Bell! Betsy Ross' house! The steps that Rocky ran up! The spot where Will Smith first robbed someone of their cheesteak!), but now I have family and good friends down there on the Delaware River. It's also got nostalgia on its side as the location of one of my most debaucherous weekends on record. Ah, sweet ineluctable youth.

And now it will forever be known as the third city in which I saw Madonna perform.

Move over, Ben Franklin. I have more imporant historical figures to worship. See you in July!