In which we go to Camden, and make it out of Camden also.

Camden has a lot of things—like a bridge to Philadelphia, half a 2000m rowing course, the highest 2nd highest murder rate in America (doin' it St. Louis), and half the police force it did a year ago. We were more interested in their not quite minor league baseball team. Well, and that bridge to Philadelphia. 

Here we are, on what could have been our last walk, headed towards some pubic transit over to The Jers'.  I like this picture but I'm glad it wasn't the end.

It's a great little stadium (and that view‽), but they really don't make it that easy to get to. Once that round trip ticket you've bought doesn't work you'll have to wait until the PATCO lady comes over the station loud speaker to tell you (yes, you) to pick up the emergency phone. And it's not until she's done remotely managing your ticket that you get to wander through after-dark Camden over to the stadium. The thrill of it!  These blurry times were had:

But so were these 4th row times, and these bird times. I don't know why that happened, but it did. And I love it, shut the door. Also, The Sway finally got into full gear.

We couldn't hang out in murdertown all night though; Roxyalotta was having a birthday bash. Everybody knows that the only thing more fun than Vacation Roxy is Birthday Roxy, so we weren't about to miss that. I came close when I broke both my ankles for a minute while Swaying, but we all recovered in time for some additional Philadelphia DANCING(!). 

Where's the bus? Call a Cab!

Here's something that I want every person's visit to Philadelphia to include: late night bar sing alongs to Motown Philly followed by late night cheesesteaks on my deck.

Sunday. Day Three. Brunch. Bloody Marys. This picture, depicting our various states of array/disarray. The realization that Crapples is still stashed behind The Barbary. Finding it hidden right where you left it:

Then taking a good look at the place you had had such a good time at Friday night. In the sunlight. Feeling both good and a little scared about it.

In the harsh light of day: The Barbary

Day drinking. Everything. No, literally, we drank every single thing they had on their menu. We may have played every single Crapples card that's been made in the process.

Waitress Lex gets in on the action.

This is a great game to play at a bar actually. Find their list and start from the top. Don't try to order what you want because you can't. Your drink is whatever is next on the list. Which proves to be amazing, hilarious, and unfortunate all at the same time. Bonuses are accrued when the barkeep &/or waitress gets invested enough to search out rare off-menu items just for the love of the game. Losses are accrued when you have to pay the bill.

Here's what you don't want to do—leave your credit card on the table when the group finally let's you go home to New York. There's gonna be some extra shots on it, which is your own fault, Schwenn.

He left us! He left us!

Here's the part of the story I thought I might not tell. As bad as the crushing return to reality was when I finally returned to work on Tuesday, my funsickness paled in comparison to Monday's umbral variation on a Whitney. I had so many questions about what was going on inside of my body. There was a lot of laying myself places, and only eating bits and pieces of my grilled cheese, and doing the old shakes in the grass routine. After putting Katie and Lynda really close to a train to the airport without waiting to see if they actually got on, I went home and ate this. I think it was a good idea. If you come visit me I'll make one for you too.