Now That Was a Trip!

Last Monday Rob, Abby, her friend Bethany and I set out on a road trip to Pittsburgh. Despite state cops as thick as mosquitoes on the turnpike and my nagging Rob incessantly about watching his speed, the drive across the state was blissfully uneventful. We even made our way out of the seedy side of town without getting shot (I guess those pops could have been fireworks) when my GPS took us to the wrong Penn Ave. After arriving at the Westin downtown, we locked the girls in the hotel room and headed to the bar where we found a few of the Phillies broadcasters. I felt very special when Larry Anderson bought us each a beer. I left Rob there, returned to the room, and crawled into my Westin heavenly bed, thinking that this road trip was looking promising indeed. The girls sleeping until 10:30 the next morning didn't even faze me.

But this is a Freakin' Angel blog post, so you've learned to anticipate the drama.

Sure enough, on Tuesday morning after our sleeping beauties decided to grace the world with their presence, we started the long search for breakfast. It could have been quick and painless, but Rob has a stubborn streak and so we covered a mile of the Strip, tripping over vegetable stands and Korean food, tiptoeing past Pirates paraphernalia, and avoiding stuff that smelled bad. It was after 11:30 by the time we found anything resembling an eatery, and naturally Abby insisted she only wanted breakfast food. Did I mention that the girls were wearing flip flops and not happy about their choice of footwear after walking forever? By the time we selected an acceptable spot, Abby was beyond miserable. Which pissed me off. Which made poor Bethany look as if she wanted to cry, wondering why in the world she had subjected herself to a long-distance road trip with crazy people.

Abby whined that she wanted to do something fun. Like go to the beach. Which she knew damn well didn't exist in Pittsburgh. I asked her why she came along on the trip she asked me if she had a choice. Good point. I thought she was being an ungrateful brat for failing to appreciate that she was on a "fun" road trip to see the Phillies play in another city. Apparently baseball games, regardless of the city, are not worth a five hour drive and two mile flip-flop walk for a bagel. Turns out a side visit to Beaver, PA, a tour of Mark Boyd's church, and a visit with my college roommate Kathie wasn't the fun Abby had in mind either.

Thank goodness for the freaky people.

When we'd left the hotel on Tuesday morning, we noticed a handful of odd folks. "Odd" as in wearing tails. And not the kind that go with a tuxedo. There was one individual dressed in full "critter" gear. But at that point we only had eyes for breakfast and didn't pay much attention. Later that afternoon, after our Beaver visit, we returned to the hotel before heading to the Phillies game and found the critters had multiplied exponentially. Some had only furry heads. Others preferred tails or similarly inhuman bottom halves. A dozen or so sported a complete look, most appearing to belong to the feline category, though I spotted a few bears and foxes and others that defied classification. Abby, having become increasingly brazen in recent months, decided to do a little research by going directly to the source:

Abby: "Why are you wearing a tail?"
Fox (clearly uncomfortable being spoken to by an actual human): "Because I'm a fox." (He shows her his fox badge.)
Abby: "Is there something going on? Some kind of event?"
Fox: "Anthrocon."

Anthrocon, according to the event website, is the world's largest convention for those fascinated with anthropomorphics, which are humanlike animal characters. They claim these folks are "a collection of artists, animators, writers, costumers, puppeteers, and just everyday fans who enjoy cartoon animals and their kin." And you'll be happy to know that membership is open to any and all who "like to imagine what it would be like if animals could walk and talk as we do." Where do I sign up?

You'd like to think that there are no more than a few hundred belonging to the "Furry fandom," but if attendance at Anthrocon is any indication, we're talking thousands. More than 5,000 attended last year's event alone, pumping millions into Pittsburgh's economy. It makes sense that hosting the convention should be profitable for a city - even worth the freak show. You have to figure these people spend very little money in real life. Remaining single and living in your parent's basement keeps expenses low. Sorry, that's conjecture. I have no proof that these folks are less likely to marry or lead typical American lives. Actually, as evidenced in this group hug photo, it's clear that they are friendly creatures:

Some were nice enough to wave to us. They seem much more comfortable if their heads are covered. But hey, who isn't? 

I took a few more photos of our furry friends, but not without hesitation. I honestly struggled with whether it was "right" to photograph them for being "different." These were just everyday folks who happened to be in touch with their animal side. Don't they deserve their privacy? Would I want to be photographed for appearing to be strange slightly unusual? I'm actually serious about this. In fact, in my next post I'm going to consider when and where our differences make it acceptable for us to be the subject of blog posts and photo opps. And I'm going to tie it in to bikinis and the Amish. So for now, please enjoy these pictures before I decide they're inappropriate: