February 2, somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania...

There are some pretty strange traditions around the world--running with bulls, spitting on brides, having Satan jump over your baby--but if there's one tradition that defies all explanation it must be Groundhog Day.

Groundhog Day is so bizarre that it's difficult to even find a reliable history of the event.  Most sources I've looked at say the tradition originated with either a bear or a badger and is some mix of Catholic and pagan holidays celebrated around the same time.  I don't know.  What I do know is that every February 2 the town of Punxsutawney, PA loses its collective mind.

Have you seen the movie Groundhog Day?  If not, go rent it, laugh at its absurdity, and then immediately disassociate the movie with the actual event.  In the movie, the Groundhog Day celebrations take place around a quaint gazebo in the middle of the town square with a polka band playing in the background.  People mill about, greet each other, applaud the groundhog, and stroll home.

That could not be more wrong.

My aunt and I arrived in Punxsutawney about 8:00pm on February 1.   We had done our research.  We knew that the town stayed open pretty much all night, we knew we were going to have to take a shuttle up to Gobbler's Knob for the viewing, and we knew that just about every church and hall offered you a place to throw your sleeping bag and crash for a few hours.  So we parked at a church, paid the $8 to stash our stuff, and set off to see the sites.  We had planned to explore for a few hours, catch a couple hours' sleep, and head up the hill about 5 or 6am, just in time for the proclamation.

Punxsutawney is a small town that depends on tourism dollars that only come in once a year--kind of like the whole state of Alaska.  But unlike Alaska, Punxsutawney only gets one day in the sun, so they do it up right.  Everything is open, the locals are friendly, children are crying unconsolably because they're up 4 hours past their bedtime, and a town that boasts a population of about 43 the rest of the year (and that's including the groundhog), swells to 15,000.  15,000 sleep-deprived, freezing cold, mostly drunk morons who all thought a pilgrimage to a groundhog was a good use of time.  And I was one of them.  (Except for the drunk part.  Maybe that was the problem...)

Around 2am we got on a shuttle and headed up Gobbler's Knob just to scope it out before heading back to the church for some shut-eye.  Imagine yourself on a summer's evening at an outdoor concert: there's a stage, people lounging around on the grass waiting for the show to start, and a few porta-pottys tucked away in a back corner.  Now put that scene at 2am.  Stand up all the people and crowd 7,000 of them in a space that probably should only hold 100.  Put 10 rows of porta-pottys in the back, and drop the temperature to 19 degrees.  That's Gobbler's Knob at 2am on February 2nd.  As we watched more people pour up the hill after us we realized there was no way we were leaving that hill and giving up a prime spot!  So there we stood, bundled up like Seattleites, but in no way prepared for the coma-inducing cold that is a Pennsylvania winter night, patiently waiting the four hours until that groundhog would appear.

I've noticed that drunkenness and cold do not make a good combination.  Sober people realize that blue is not a normal skin color.  On Gobbler's Knob, though, blue is the new tan!  Feeling cold?  Get in line, jump up on stage, throw off a few layers of clothing, and dance for the crowd!  I only do that when people have bought tickets, thank you very much. 

By 6am, when all 15,000 of Punxsutawney Phil's friends had crowded onto the Knob, we were more than ready to see this groundhog do his thing!  Enter the Inner Circle.  These guys, adorned in tuxes and top hats, take their place on stage and begin to read the official Groundhog Day proclamation.  Phil is brought out of his cage, the Inner Circle declares whether or not he has seen his shadow, and the crowd begins to disperse.  4 hours of waiting.  10 minutes of ceremony.  2 more hours to get back down the hill, and a 90 minute drive back to my dorm where we sleep for the next two days. 

You're only crazy if you do it twice.