I work in the historic district of Philadelphia. I take this completely for granted.
Like the fact that I can see the liberty bell every day - twice. That I step on cobblestones past Independence Hall en route to the gym at lunch. That I can look out a window and see the nation's first post office. I could take a few moments sometimes to reflect on the significance of all this. But I am more likely to be irritated at the fat people from Kansas taking up too much room on the sidewalk and taking too long to cross the street. I am more likely to be cursing cobblestones as I try to walk across them in heels without breaking my neck. And I don't even think it's strange anymore to see people walking around in full colonial costume. I have ridden the El with Ben Franklin and Betsy Ross more than once.
I can ignore the history, but it's hard to ignore the herds that come to see the history. They move in masses of dumb sychronicity. Sometimes you have to literally part them like seas if you want to get anywhere. They radiate the obnoxious euphoria of country folk made giddy by the up-tempo urban environment. They marvel at things like bike locks and taxis. They ride around on tour buses, or in the shabby carriages pulled by sad horses with shady drivers who must have been carnies or gypsies.
When I'm walking around, I sometimes overhear the "history" lessons given by these tour guides. And they sound mighty suspicious. And not just to me : recently the city has decided it's going to require "testing" for the tour guides in the historic district. Yesterday I thought for sure I was hearing a load of bull from a bus guide. He was going on about Dolley Madison and oyster ice cream. HAH! I thought. Gotcha! But no. History Channel's series "The Presidents" confirms this. Well then. I learned something today.