Phillies

Apparently, even B.F. is a fan of baseball...

Duck Tales (Oooh, oooh)

So today I decided to play tourist in Philly by taking a duck tour. It was a blast! Captain Fred quacked (err, cracked) me up - "If we need to evacuate, I'll go first to make sure it's safe. Yeah, a captain goes down with his ship, but this is a duck! And have you ever heard a captain goes down with his duck? I didn't think so." Either he was really that funny, or I was so sleep-deprived he seemed far more amusing than he really was - I leave you to ponder.

The duck criss-crossed the historic square mile, going past a lot of sights I've walked past but not paid a lot of attention to, as well as taking me to parts of town I hadn't gotten around to visiting yet. Note to self: South Street contains a lot more than the Trader Joe's....

To round off the evening, I'm watching the Angels-Yankees game. Not because I particularly care about the World Series, but I'd kind of like to know who the Phillies fans are going to be burning in effigy outside my house come Halloween. And I wouldn't want to accidentally wear the wrong colors to work next week...!

First the G20, Now Baseball

So I kinda knew there was a baseball game going on in town last night. But so what? I mean, yeah, big crowds, getting out late, overloaded public transport system, but that wasn't affecting ME - I was walking home from work and going to bed early 'cause I've got to be up at 5 A.M. tomorrow and I wanted a bit of extra sleep.

The screaming started around 11 P.M.

I tried to ignore it.

Then people started honking car horns.

Still trying to ignore it.

Next came the fireworks.

Rolling over in bed and burying my head under the pillow.

Then someone starts throwing freakin' metal trashcans at my house. Yes, that's right. Bang, crash, like lightning hitting the tree right outside your bedroom window.

That's when I got up and started to watch the riot - err, sorry, celebration - from the windows at the front of the house (but from the safety of the 3rd floor). I have since learned that the only thing worse than winning a game such as this, is LOSING it. Then they break into local stores and set them on fire. And throw cars. And pull down stop lights - oh, wait, they did that last night, too.

At midnight, one of my housemates finally got home, having been detailed and prevented from coming down our street, despite the fact she lives there, because the police are trying to keep people from rioting.

About 1 A.M. there were apparently still 1000 people crowd-surfing a block from my house.

Circa 1:30 A.M. at least the trash-can throwing died down enough that I could try to sleep.

First I'm there for the G20 riots in London, now this! Oh, and apparently the whole World Series thing doesn't have the good taste to happen on a weekend, either. (Laugh at me at your own peril, baseball fans! I have a cell phone and I'm not afraid to use it... at 2 A.M... on a weekday.)

Dear UVA undergrads, who I might or might not have laughed at for thinking that weekends start on Thursday and for getting a little rowdy after a football game... I have been properly put in my place. Charlottesville is not Bagdad - I mean, Philadelpha.

Research accomplished today:

1) Read a half dozen almanacs.