April 1st: Get invited. April 16th: Brother and Sister arrive to 'liquidate' the family farm, on 2 days notice. April 22nd: Inadvertently infected a bad tooth by over brushing my teeth. Not realizing it, I let the infection get out of hand, to the point where I couldn't sleep for more than 2 hours at a time. April 25th: Sister told me I could not use the truck to go to Pico Day, which was well North of Philly, and perfectly safe to commute to on a Saturday.
April 27th: After my sister missed the turn to the train station, I barely made it onto the Keystone Express to Philly. If I had more than 2 hours of sleep, I would've gotten more familiar with the guest list... and route to the station(s). I managed to find locals and SEPTA employees, to properly direct me to the proper trains... websites can be so imprecise :\ "Glenside! Glenside next stop." It was gorgeous out, and Glenside was not unlike Princeton or any other American, upper-middle class town.

After I grudgingly accepted that the sun was indeed east of me, I turned around on Glenside Avenue and headed West, looking at street signs, on a stunningly bright comfortable day. "Harrison, yeah... Lismore, yes!!", then I saw the Google Street View image of NG HQ. I relaxed even more, crossed over and lurked the facade, enjoying my smoke. This was the place I was promised.

I saw a man with his back turned to me, sitting on a red couch, in a small garage. I ceased worrying and thinking, to listen to the modestly volumed music... sure as shit sounded like something I heard in the Audio Portal alright. Noddingly, I turned around, pitched my smoke into a storm drain, and tried the front door. The address for Newgrounds was locked. Through the glass door, I saw a pebble covered square room, with a split staircase going up.

I tried the next door down, which was in the same building, but under a different number. Also locked, but on the other side, I saw fresh stocks of toilet paper, printing paper and other assorted supplies.. not the hallmark of an abandoned building. I put my knapsack and satchel of gifts on an empty table.

There were more people in the largest room, to the right of the mini-garage. I smiled and nodded my way past the couch guy, and a few others on my way into the party theater. There were a string of unlit yellow construction lamps hung from the ceilings perimeter, the long line of shades on the right were closed, and looked like they always were. The second floor was supported by some impressively close steel beams. Once I made out who Tom was, the atmosphere mellowed, this was the guy who sent for me.

"Happy birthday Tom, thanks for inviting me." He squinted at my dimly lit, self-made name badge, which I made the night before, in the last 5 minutes before the libraries computers (and printers) would be shut down for the night. Luckily, my bee-keeping librarian friend was able to navigate the slip-shot networking just in time. 50 cents a page for color, 10 cents for b/w.... I handed over my tribute to the Mystery Boxes, and set aside my other presents.

After Tom introduced me to the artist I passed on the couch (Sherbalex), he invited us up to the office level. We took the stairs nearest to the make-shift apartment and garage. Tom lovingly toted over a Tank award prototype (hazy picture below), to the older craftsman at work. The pleasant fellow remembered my name 10 hours later, right before I took off for the last train out.

Tom crossed his arms, "So, what do you think of the Under Judgement pod, under the Top 5? Do you use it, look at it?"

I was kinda ambivalent about it, since I usually go to right to the classic Portal, to nail down the UJ stuff... "Does that start at the bottom of the list, the entries almost out of Judgement?" They are, and from your own Favorites list too.

This was the moment. I had so much input to give, questions to ask, and statements to be made... which I did as tastefully and promptly as possible. Would've been the perfect time to get a picture of me alongside "The Creator".

Once we took the other set of stairs back down to the party room, I opened Tom's birthday present before of him: a bag of Toll-House chocolate chip cookies, made the night before. They had been slightly over-cooked and gummy, the worst batch in a damn long time :| Tom looked down into the bag, much like someone would look at a small pet or child, urinating between his legs. I apologetically closed the bag up and put it on the side table, near the coffee.... he couldn't think I was trying to poison him, could he? I never got banned, or took offense at any admin before :P

Sixty (60) crappy Pico Day Pictures.