Northeast Corridor, bitches

I recently returned from the metropolis of Philadelphia.

By recently, I mean "just now." I took the train down there Friday afternoon to see a friend visiting the city of brotherly love and Santa animosity for a convention.

While in New York's version of Baltimore, I helped a cabbie break in his new digital camera, nearly got my friend and I ambushed by local ninjas, drank a goodly amount of Yuengling at the city's oldest bar and most likely made inappropriate comments about women. I also learned that the departures board at 30th Street Station is only as accurate as The New York Times -- it says what the big shots tell it to say. Thankfully, the Amtrak police officers there must read their hometown blog and know the Times can be bullshit, because they totally understood and didn't throw my ass in Amtrak jail. Once my train arrived, I rattled through Jersey, listening to my iPod and attempting to drift into beery sleep.

As the Quad City DJ's would say -- Choo, choo, ride it!