This is my traditional first photo of the trip, taken less than a mile from my house. Notice it is snowing, which brought back memories of last year's prom, except this time Interstate 81 wasn't closed from where I live all the way down to Harrisburg. I didn't take too many photos on the way down, because for the most part it was too dark to bother. Therefore I do not have photos of the van dick or of the free ham billboard. There will be way too many references to this later, so consider yourself properly warned.

This is a very blurry photo of the hotel we briefly deluded ourselves into thinking we were staying at. As we rolled into the parking lot, the radio station started playing "Play That Funky Music, White Boy" by Wild Cherry. So of course up went the volume, down went the windows, and we did a circuit of the hotel with the song blasting out for everyone to hear. We pulled around and stopped at the carport and determined we were in fact at the wrong hotel, wasting one of the greatest entrances of all time.

We drove a bit farther and found the correct hotel, which was not as impressive. By the time we got there, the radio station was on the next song. What did they choose as a follow-up? "Daydream Believer" by The Monkees. Really. So MrGreenSmiling and Drunken_Irishman turned the volume back up and we rolled into the Holiday Inn to the anarchic rebellious strains of:

Yes, it was quite clear to anyone within earshot exactly the caliber of human being they were dealing with here.

And finally we're inside and meeting other Loathers. Doc Trauma, Sweet Sarnia, and Tealsac are all having a good time here. Dazz is visible in the mirror, proving that, um, he's not a vampire, I guess, just in case anyone was concerned.

Look, it's Gwen! (Inside joke.) (Also, free ham.) (I asked at one point if "Free ham" could be paired with "Fight the power," but was advised that only works if ham is being unjustly incarcerated.)

This photo is pure gold. Sarnia was taking pictures with Doc's camera. Doc is a professional photographer so the camera is more complicated than the Apollo rockets that went to the Moon and back, and he took exception with her wildly amateurish handling of said camera, as well as her insistence that he had taken a picture that he himself appeared in. In classic Kingdom fashion, he chose to demonstrate his feelings on the matter in a rational mature manner, opting to perform a mocking pantomime. By the time I got my camera out, he had stopped, so I had to ask him to resume, which he cheerily did. The result is this photo, which is probably my favorite from this meet. For bonus points, visible in the background is a portrait of Seamus Heaney, the lovechild of Neil Gaiman and Severus Snape.

It was just Doc's night to look photogenic. He's pictured here positioned enviably between AlBassoon and Naners.

Proof that angle matters. Watch this: Rabbit...

...fetus. Creepy, eh?

I know my head looks Photoshopped in here, but I swear it's not.

And somehow, between the last picture and this one, this happened to my camera. I swiped this from Doc Trauma's photo set, because I am not skilled enough to use my camera to take a picture of the back of my camera. I include this photo here primarily to explain why the quality of the photos I took after this point dropped from my normal level of craptacular down to abyssmal.

Speaking of creepy, Ceiling Rabbit Is Watching You Make Fuck.

When I see this photo, I find myself which music would be more fitting, violins or banjos. (I have no idea what that means, but I have to admit it sounds kinda insulting.)

Who designed this car? The instrument panel is centered, it has very little information on it, and the speedometer is actually on the passenger side. This is at least as communist as fluoridated water.

Doc Trauma took a picture of the place setting, so I decided I had to take one too. His came out better.

"What the hell do you mean there's no free ham on the menu?!" Honestly, have any of you ever seen MrGreenSmiling looking this shocked and disappointed?

We had too many people to fit at one table, so some of them sat at another table. While we were waiting for the food to arrive, everyone at that table decided they had to have a smoke break together, much like women who go to the restroom en masse to make pasta or whatever the hell it is they do back there that requires a team effort. While they were out, the studious and dedicated though apparently not especially attentive staff walked up to the empty table and started cleaning it up. We had to tell them to stop. (By "we" I mean "MrGreenSmiling," who has a much bigger mouth than I do.) Things they had already taken they had to replace. We didn't explain what had happened when the smoke break was over, though more than one person was pleased to find their coffee cups had been "refilled" and Tealsac reportedly wondered why his spoon mysteriously disappeared.

In its most literal sense, this is litter caught on power lines, but there's something beautiful about it.

Yes, the KOL "Reunion Dance." Probably safer than honesty, that one. It was also our general consensus that the expo listed above us is, somewhere in its title, missing at least one dash. Think about it.

Professional photographer, amateur art thief.

Some losers always put the X back when they get it. This is how you're supposed to do it. I used TWO Xs, not to mention two Ws, a K, a J... Damn, I rock! Most people who wandered by we invited to join the game. When Dazz wandered by, no one offered. My feeling was, questions I already know the answer to I don't need to ask.

It's odd to see a guy in a burka, but I very much prefer this to Naners in the burka and Lilac in the dress.

"KOL PROM" backwards is "MORP LOK." I pointed this out to several people. They knew I was correct and they had no way to argue my point, so they just smiled and nodded and edged away slowly, impressed by my masterful grasp of saying shit backwards.

Somehow the game of Tiddly Winks with the plastic gold coins on the tables evolved to Cleavage Basketball. The only rules seemed to be no slam dunks and no hanging on the rim.

Then we moved on to Sombrero Basketball. Not nearly as much fun.

"Hey, great to see you again, how the hell are ya!" I wore the halo because I felt it made me look more credible. Everyone I expressed this to responded with great sarcasm.

Either god dropped by to have her picture taken, or else Doc Trauma's head exploded at this point for some reason. There are no other possible explanations for this brilliant light situated near the camera. None at all.

This is me making a phone call from the hotel lobby. It was around this point that Dazz described me as a wreck. Considering earlier in the night I walked into the hotel bar and heard him conversationally telling someone "Well, maybe you're just a cunt," I have to feel that I got off easy. (Has anyone else noticed that, given how few photos he appears in, I am making a stastically improbable number of references to Dazz? No? Okay then, I didn't notice either.)

My room was way the hell down at the far end of this hall. I made it, but it wasn't a sure thing when I set out.

The next day I chose to go with the big hair look, which I accomplish by combing my hair. Seriously, that's the only step.

I am reasonably sure that this is not what it appears to be.

Objects in mirror are less cracked than they appear.

Speaking of cracked... No, you know what? I'm not explaining this one.

Jelloboi and Bacon Salt would make at least as good a Presidential ticket as John McCain and whoever he chooses to lose the Vice Presidency in the next election.

Doc Tramua ate a stack of pancakes and an omelette the size of a manhole cover only heavier. He got an ovation when he was done. As a result, I promised to refer to him in this photoset as Doc Creosote. I am doing so here, fulfilling the obligation that Doc would probably prefer I let slide.

We went out for brunch. We didn't actually get it until 2:30, which is well past the breakfast-lunch period. We were in the lunch-dinner period. So we were at The Original Pancake House for linner, not the copycat derivative IHOP, and we noticed that you could get a side of 100% maple syrup for $1.25. This is a bit baffling. Who orders maple syrup as a side dish? I notice now that right below that is whipped cream. Is it just me or is this seriously odd? "Ma'am, I'd like a side of bacon and two sides of whipped cream please."

Look, the hair is red and the eyes aren't. See, I do sometimes take pictures that don't suck! And all this with a broken camera, no less. (I did skip a number of photos due to a combination of major red eye and me being too lazy to correct them.)

A happy mob scene outside Not An IHOP. Usually this is about the point where someone calls the police on us, but I have to admit I didn't hear even a rumor of police approaching us at any point during the meet (though if it happened on Saturday night I definitely would have missed it--I hear I was a wreck). I'm not sure that's a first, but I hope it's not a last.

The two women sprinting away from the restaurant were terrified of us Loathers and couldn't get away fast enough. Or, they were doing the Dine 'n' Dash. Either way, Doc found it hysterical.

We were given directions to our next stop, pictured above. As you can see, they were hastily scrawled on a napkin in green crayon. They were also, as it turns out, 100% accurate and got us where we were going with no trouble whatsoever. If you can make the directions out, and follow them, you'll arrive at whatever spot it is they lead to.

FREE HAM!

The sign is a little hard to make out here, but if you can manage it, you will understand when I tell you the only thing it is missing is the letter Y at the end.

A vicious biker gang. I rolled up my window, just to be on the safe side. I think I forgot to lock the door, though. Live and learn.

Me with my hair partially backlit.

I don't get this at all but I'm posting it anyway.

If only I had gotten a picture of the look she gave me immediately after I took this picture...

I must admit that the sword through the neck is a nice, if inadvertent, touch. I have no suitable summarizing photo or wrap-up statement, so... FREE HAM!