August 11, 2025
Friends, When you smell manure, what do you think of? Probably not the opening sentence of an email that is ultimately designed to convince you to register for a conference. For me, it’s 2007 and I’m 15 again. I’m on the top deck of a rickety old bus from circa 1947 travelling through rural England toward Alton Towers. I’m clutching my big, fat, 30gb iPod classic (click wheel enthusiasts unite) and listening to HannahMontana 2:MeetMileyCyrus.(I’m re-listening to it while writing this. It still holds up.) My friends and I hold on for dear life as the 1947 double decker bus with no seatbelts and bench seating that faces sideways careens through the countryside. Life is good.
Alton Towers is arguably the best theme park in the UK. It’s a massive collection of thrill rides, family friendly areas, and even the gardens of a stately home to explore. It’s also, for some reason, the only field trip that my school offers year in and year out.
My 15 year old self isn’t a fan of the big roller
coasters. Instead, I’m probably going to spend the majority of my day on Duel, a ride that combines a haunted house with laser guns to shoot the various spooky things that pop up. In between rounds of Duel I will spend my money on carnival games, and eventually I will win a large stuffed lion by miraculously curling a soccer ball into the top corner on a penalty shoot-out challenge. Considering how notoriously unathletic I am, this will be seen as nothing short of a minor miracle by those around me. (I, meanwhile, will ride that high until well, right now, at age 33.)
So that’s what I think about every time I smell manure. Think about maybe isn’t even a strong enough word for it - that’s what I feel every time I smell manure. I can’t listen to Green Day without being back in my childhood bedroom revising for GCSE
Science with 21st Century Breakdown on repeat. Whenever I taste artificial banana I’m 6 years old and drinking medicine for whatever ailed me.
The power of connecting our senses to our memories and emotions isn’t some new
discovery - and the clever folks in marketing have been using it for decades. Where I live now in Naperville, a candy store has cut a hole in their front window to direct the smell of their freshly popped caramel corn into the street. This same technique is employed on Main Street at Disney so that your nose guides you toward the Confectionary, Pepe Le Pew style. I spend an ungodly amount of money each year on candles that smell of green clover & aloe. All because my favorite hotel pumps that scent into their AC in the lobby and so the smell reminds me of vacation. I will forever be beholden to nostalgia.
As we roll full steam toward October, I’m nostalgic for the time we spent together in the Old Post Office back in 2022. The bustle of the hallways, the smells of all manner of deliciousness from the food court below, the warm air of the rooftop garden.
As chair, you’ve heard me talk about my intent to curate a conference based on the power of storytelling in planning. To me, one of the ultimate goals of storytelling is immersion. How could we possibly ever hope to achieve
that immersion without consideration of the experience through every sense?
One of the best activities I was given in grad school was an exercise in journaling. Taking in a specific area of Liverpool and detailing what I saw, what I smelled, what I heard, what I felt. Tasting was, thankfully, optional. It’s an experience that has stayed with meand it’s one of my favorite ways to experience cities today. If you haven’t - try it next time you’re out. It can be somewhere new or somewhere familiar.
Find me at the Old Post Office in October. I want to hear what you learned!
June 10, 2025
Friends, This year’s conference is somewhat unique, and it calls for a different kind of introduction.
On this day, June 10th, thirteen years ago, 20-yearold me boarded a plane in Manchester, England, bound for America to begin the Disney International Program in Orlando, Florida.
I spent the next three months working 14-hour shifts in the swampy Florida summer, popping popcorn for anyone in need of a salty snack during their visit to the Magic Kingdom. I learned the dance moves for the 3 o’clock parade, and how to answer when someone inevitably asked what time the 3 o’clock parade was. I could synchronize my hand movements with the nightly fireworks like a conductor of the sky’s orchestra. And my Mickey Mouse impression? Let’s just say it’s out of this world, haha.
But what stuck with me more than anything (aside from my wife, who I met during the program) was how the tiniest details came together to create a completely immersive experience. Entering the Magic 6
Kingdom felt like stepping into a movie, with me as the main character. I soaked up everything I could about how Imagineering (the division of Disney responsible for designing its theme parks) told stories through physical space. Every sight, smell, and texture was carefully crafted to spark an emotional reaction in the 100,000+ people who passed through the gates each day.
20-year old Phil slinging ice creams on Main St USA
The more I learned about these design choices, the more I discovered that what I was experiencing was the magic of movie making applied to something called urban planning. Somewhere, real people were using these techniques to build real places!
Some of you reading this already know me or at least recognize me from LinkedIn (an honor for which I profusely apologize). For those who don’t, I hope to share a bit more of my story over the coming months and why chairing the 2025 APA-IL State Conference is so deeply personal to me.
APA-IL has been a constant since I first arrived in the U.S. It has shaped my career in ways I never could have predicted. Each year, the conference fills my cup: it connects me with some of the most wonderful people, doing the most wonderful things in the most wonderful ways. This year’s conference is a celebration of that work. Even more so, it’s a celebration of the people doing that work.
At our core, planners are storytellers whether we intend to be or not. I’m thrilled to bring that message to this year’s event. With a record-breaking number of sessions submitted, I have a feeling you’re just as excited as I am. I’m also beyond excited to 8
welcome our keynote speaker, Margaret Chandra Kerrison, who brings an extraordinary creative background—including her work as a lead storyteller on multiple award-winning projects at Walt Disney Imagineering. See, there was a reason I was telling you about my time popping popcorn after all!
What I love most about this profession is how we learn from every angle. We take the unexpected, the seemingly unrelated, and apply it to the work of building great communities. Registration for the conference is open now. I can’t wait to see how the insights you take from Margaret and from each other shape what you do next.
If you want to talk about the conference, my Mickey Mouse impression, or literally anything else—you can always reach me at phil@ilapa.org.
