Places emileedanielson Wants to Go

Journey through a collection of over 35,000 Halloween items from all generations.

This stone tower marks a lookout point over the historic Washington Crossing, and maybe some buried treasure.

Despite being stolen multiple times, this civic electrician's street corner Snoopy won't be stopped.

A larger-than-life statue of America's favorite sundae marks the place it was invented.

This shrine to McDonalds' most iconic sandwich holds a 14-foot tall burger.

Behold the rickety glory of one of the oldest roller coasters still standing.

The pop art icon's gravesite is broadcast 24 hours a day on his museum's website.

The home and studio of a visionary woodworker now stands as a museum and example of his artistic genius.

Once on display alongside a giant Gumby, it’s as tall as a nine-story building when fully extended.

A tiny, unmarked beer and whiskey bar above an Ethiopian restaurant in West Philly fails to conceal live bluegrass.

This museum boasts a bucket of teeth and tells the tale of a 20th-century dental circus.

This semi-spooky remnant of an abandoned hotel provides fantastic views.

This Pennsylvania cave holds evidence of the oldest known inhabitants of North America.

Pennsylvania's own Roswell-style UFO mystery.

An outlandish shoe shaped house built by an eccentric millionaire.

These disused steel furnaces are now haunting ruins that may one day be a national park.

The Home and murder site of the witch of Rehmeyers Hollow.

Instruments, apparatus, and rare books all relating to chemistry and its related sciences.

America's first serial killer rests in anonymity.

When the Austin Dam failed it destroyed much of Austin...and then it failed again.

This park contains a number of standing stones meant to heal and inspire.

A macabre farm reserved part of its 222-acres for dead bodies, all in the name of science.

The abandoned coal loading dock is a canvas for unsanctioned art.

A museum dedicated to the strange and extravagant costumes and memorabilia of the mummers, a tradition older than Philadelphia itself.