One student's Philadelphia adventure

It's not often that you find yourself sprinting up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art at 3:30 in the morning. You feel your legs — weary from hours of walking — start to burn. You feel your stomach — full of cheesesteak — start to churn. But you push on nonetheless, quietly humming the tune to "Eye of the Tiger." And soon enough, you're atop the steps, dancing around just like Rocky himself.

If I wanted to, I could probably explain tersely how I recently found myself in such a situation. But that would be no fun, and a story like this deserves to be drawn out in long-winded grandeur. So, sit back and enjoy.

Our original plan was simple: A dozen of us would go see a Phillies-Mets game at Veterans Stadium. Unfortunately, our "plan" was slightly haphazard. Not only did we barely know how to get to the stadium, but, we soon discovered, we would have to leave the game very early to catch the last train back to campus (which four members of our party prudently did).

The remaining eight of us were not quite as practical. Somewhere along the way, we resolved to spend the night wandering the streets of Philadelphia. And at promptly 4:55 a.m., we would catch the first train headed north, returning home in a blaze of sleep-deprived glory.

But that moment was still nine hours away when we finally made it to the Vet. From our $10 nosebleeds (we later moved down), we witnessed the Phillies win an extra inning thriller. Still, it wasn't the details of the game that were most memorable; rather it was the experience of being at the ballpark about which the sportswriter in me feels the need to wax poetic.

There was the taste of the ballpark hot dog. There was the sound of an eccentric beer man, loudly patrolling our section and two of his most frequent customers, who hit on every single female who walked by. There was a middle-aged woman clothed as Wonder-woman.

We lectured the two Brits with us on Baseball 101, using "Take Me Out To The Ballgame" as our textbook. We appeared on the Jumbotron, thanks to the dancing of one of the females. And we even walked on the field after the game.

As we left the Vet, we had roughly four hours left to get a taste of Philadelphia. Where else would we start but with the taste of cheesesteak? We hopped a cab to the famous intersection that Pat's & Gino's call home so we could sample the rivals' offerings. Both were great, but Gino's was just slightly better, even if the giant neon sign was a bit too flashy.

Our story would be incomplete without mention of the two trips to a nearby CVS. Several members of our group each downed high-energy drinks called "The Monster," which will, according to the label, "unleash the beast." It's still not clear what exactly the monster was, nor is it clear if the beast was truly unleashed. It was quite clear, however, that the pupils of all the monster-drinkers quickly became very large and dilated.

Next, we found ourselves exploring an abandoned Center City. There, two members of our party took the liberty of relieving themselves on City Hall. Shortly thereafter, in an act of karmic retribution, a policeman yelled at the same two individuals for jaywalking. Chastened, we set off for the Museum of Art, making sure to properly obey all stoplights. There, we made our mad dash to the top (disturbing a couple in search of privacy). We even played a few games of Mafia as a rest break.

We then embarked on the long walk to the train station, arrived with a few minutes to spare, and conked out almost immediately once aboard. Not surprisingly, we had the dinky back to campus all to ourselves. As my head finally hit my pillow, my clock read exactly 7:00 a.m. — a mere 14 hours after we originally left campus.

I didn't initially intend to extract any clichéd lessons from my experience, but looking back now, I can't help it (sorry). Besides, I'm told my article has to have a point.

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First, I would be remiss not to preach to the freshmen, since everyone else is doing it. So to the class of '07: When the chance arises to escape the "Princeton Bubble" and create your own personal adventure, take it. However, I don't mean to advise you to wander around Philly on a regular basis — there's good reason you didn't go to Penn.

Second, to fellow sophomores, juniors and seniors: Don't forget how to make new friends. I barely knew the majority of the people I was with Sunday night, but by Monday morning we had formed an Outdoor Action-type of bond.

And finally, to everyone: Never miss the chance to tell a good story.