Not to be outdone by its predecessor, Thursday brought many surprises, but ended smoothly, with a lot of fun.
In my previous entry, I wrote about our “interesting” hotel in Bushkill. The “fun” continued on Thursday morning, when our five-minute ride to the lobby crumbled before our eyes. Everything seemed smooth. I had gotten a full night of sleep (a road rarity for me), John had gotten 18 holes of golf in that morning. Originally, we were all supposed to be picked up at our individual “villas” and taken to the lobby. Then we were told that we would have to wait at the bus stop to catch the shuttle. Then we were told that the shuttle had broken down, and one of the tour buses was coming to get us. So, here we are, covered in bites and gnats, but wait! Only five of us are here. Where are Jeff and Kevin?
Get this. Jeff was already in the lobby, and had been for a couple of hours. Why? He was kicked out of his hotel room by security. I’ll let him tell the story if he feels like it, but trust me, it was one of the dumbest, most unbelievable things I’ve ever heard.
So, where was Kevin? We kept calling his cell phone, with no luck (it is Cellkill, after all). The front desk called his room, and no answer. Finally, I get in the car with the assistant manager of the hotel and direct him straight to Kevin’s room. We get there, and Kevin’s bags are sitting right by his door. And there’s Kevin, sitting in the grass, watching people play golf. Because of the fact that we couldn’t get a cell phone signal, and his room phone wasn’t working, he had no clue he was supposed to meet us at the bus stop. We drove him back to the lobby and boarded the tour buses to Philadelphia at 12:15 PM.
Philadelphia is quite a place. We passed by the steps where Sly Stallone made his famous jog in “Rocky.” After the show with the Pops, we hit the world-famous Jim’s, which is notorious for…you guessed it, Philly cheesesteaks. And what a joy those were. Tasted great, aside from the fact that my breath was so bad that I could have peeled wallpaper.
After spending some time with the Pops at Monk’s, it was back to the hotel. We got back at about 2:15 AM, and I realized I needed batteries, and wouldn’t have time to get them later. So it’s almost 2:30 in the morning, and here I am walking the streets of Philly. A guy with a ridiculous sob story tried to get me to give him cigarettes, cash, or ATM access (none of which I had). And after finally losing him, guess what. I didn’t even get my batteries.
Tomorrow is Atlanta, then we get to go home. However, on behalf of Rockapella, I want send a big thank you to all of the fine folks at the Boston Pops. They made touring with 100 people seem like a breeze. Thank you for taking care of all of us so incredibly well.
Until next time,
Justin
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