• The photo gallery is up. I make a return appearance as the Least Photogenic Guy on Earth.

• Left early Saturday morning for the 4:35 p.m. start, dropped bags off at the economical hotels (around $100/night) near BWI airport, rode the light rail to Camden Yards and split a $25 cab back from Inner Harbor after closing the bars at 2 a.m. Long, long day. Lots of fun. Except...

• The Bombers blew another one. They're now 0-4 in games I've attended this year, and I'm one step away from buying my own "Yankees suck" T-shirt.

• Rest stops are mutant conventions. The people look straight outta the Star Wars cantina, and the cleanliness makes you want to eat off the floor ... because the tables are a wreck. Looked like a pizza parlor got hit by a truck bomb.

• Never pay for than $15 for a seat at Camden Yards. Armed with only $8 standing-room only tickets, me and Anchorman sat or stood in four different sections, seemingly on a mission to give business to every beer vendor in the joint. The Richmond girls bought two lower-level tickets for $10 each in the no-scalping re-sell line. And this was a series that sold out every ticket. And the end of the one-run game, eight of us were able to sit together, despite holding four different types of tickets.

• David Boston sucks. I don't know if this guy forgot he was going to a Yankees game or what, but some dude was sporting a San Diego Chargers #89 David Boston jersey. You know how many times someone said, "Boston Sucks!" to him? About 1,000. And I'm only counting the time I was taking a piss next to him. And he had no sense of humor about it.

• Yankees fans were in full force. Again, half the place was sporting the interlocking N-Y. Again, I saw more Mattingly shirts than Ripken shirts. If you're a Yankees fan, you have to make this trip.

• "But you cheated." As sure as day follows night, some stranger is gonna pipe up at me when I'm wearing a Yankees cap or shirt. Usually I'm doing something really obnoxious, like walking past them or talking to a friend. Late Saturday night, the local liquorheads were getting mouthy (again, with no provocation), but I armed myself with this comeback: "Yeah, but you cheated." Used it about 10 times. Every time I got a dumbfounded look. "What the fuck are you talking about?" they ask. "Did you see the replays? You'll read about it tomorrow," I told them. That pretty much ended the exchanges, me moving on to more important matters and they left scratching their heads.

• That's no way to treat The Greatest Living Ball Player. I think I saw only one fight all day/night. I know this will come as a shock, but it involved drunk males. One dude in a No. 23 Don Mattingly jersey and got his ass beat out of the bar and into a back alley. Where's Don Zimmer when you need him?

• Thundersticks, Natty Bo's, cheap-ass beers all over the place, the Camden Yards employee who didn't know where Boog's BBQ was, raising the Red Roof, the usher who showed us to our seats behind home plate after we showed him our standing-room only tickets, the cabbie I invited to make love to himself after he tried to gouge us, being asked to talk to a PK.com reader in Virginia after she downed what sure sounded like a healthy dosage of Jim Beam, hearing Boulevard of Broken Dreams eight thousand times in the car, getting flashed by passing car, lunch at Fell's Point (named after Norman Fell) next to a couple that was actually engaged in a televised NASCAR race and, of course, Powerdogs!

Make your plans now for the 2006 PK.com Camden Yards Road Trip. Maybe then I'll actually buy enough tickets so we're not scrambling before the game.