Ah, Pittsburgh. I wish I was still there. You cannot underestimate how difficult it is to wind down from five days of being a rock star. This year I took the day after we returned off work, just to attempt to come down to earth.
I could tell you stories of 200 people taking over a bar, forcing the lone bartender to call in three buddies to help out; of drinking Iron City beer out of Aluminum Bottles while eating a Primanti Brothers sandwich (Meat of your choice, Cheese, Fries, Slaw, and Tomatoes all between two pieces of bread); of dancing in a church-converted-into-Techno club named “The Sanctuary”; or wearing a feather boa at a party held in an old jail. But I won’t tell you those stories.

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