Growing up in central Pennsylvania, I was always keenly aware of the existence of Punxsutawney Phil. The famous groundhog apparently wasn't all that famous before Bill Murray made him a household name in the movie featuring the small Pennsylvania town's 24 hours of fame.

Every February 2, I would turn on the TV to channel 10 and watch the live coverage from Gobbler's Knob.

Fans of the movie Groundhog Day know the Hollywood version of Punxsutawney. In their version (filmed in Woodstock, Illinois), the town gathers bright and early downtown while an oompah band plays the "Pennsylvania Polka" in anticipation of the great woodchuck's arrival. From my vantage point of WTAJ's coverage, it looked like more of a mass of high school kids in a field.

While in college, I decided I was going to experience my favorite holiday at its home base. I transferred my fanaticism of Groundhog Day (the holiday, this was years before the movie came out) to a few friends. We packed up the Dodge Aries at around two in the morning and headed to greet Phil.

Punxsutawney between four and five in the morning didn't feel different than any other small town at that time of the night. We pulled into the all-night quick shopper for directions to Gobbler's Knob. The person behind the counter greeted us with the distain you would expect from a person who had worked all night and answered the same question from dozens of lost tourists.

We continued into town past Groundhog Plaza (a small shopping center with the likeness of Phil smiling at the top of the marquee) and turned at the traffic light just as the night manager had told us. Up the hill and turn right into the less developed area across from the local residences. Another quarter mile or so and suddenly there's life.

Cars were parked in the open field to the right while people crossed the tiny two-lane road the separated the parking area from the woods.

Fighting the chilly breezes that come with hanging out on a mountainside before six in early February, we followed the crowds to the even larger crowd standing in the clearing. A sea of people that probably numbered a couple thousand seemed odd when the town only a mile away probably had a population of about the same. But there were obviously tourists among the locals here.

One of my cohorts Marie, a native of northern New Jersey, decided to take a survey of the participants of that year's activities. When she overheard two women talking about their inebriated spouses

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