E: I couldn’t help but laugh as we rolled out our sleeping bags on a hard tile floor in the hallway of the old Punxsutawny, Pa., community center.
For two people who could have flown standby practically anywhere in the world on this cold February weekend, western Pennsylvania would normally be the last place I expected us to visit.
But not this weekend. It was Groundhog Day, after all.
It was already midnight, but we tried to close our eyes and catch a few hours of sleep before our 3 a.m. alarm. The commotion around us continued through the night. Kids were running through the halls. Adults began discussing the logistics of getting to Gobbler’s Knob. Everyone was basking in the excitement of what was to come in the morning.
It wasn’t long, now.
T: It was 2:45 a.m., and in the creepy dark corridors of a school-turned-community-center, a man’s repeated whispery announcement started a quiet commotion amongst the hundreds of occupied sleeping bags lining the halls.
“First buses leave in 15 minutes.”
Groggily but dutifully, we stuffed our sleeping bags and clothing into our duffels, dashed over to our car in the falling snow and got ready for a crazy day even by our standards.
Then we walked five blocks back through town, where a line had already gathered for the long meandering school bus ride out of town and up the hill.
The bus driver had the radio tuned to live coverage of the festivities, which had already begun. The windows had all fogged up, but we got our first glimpse of the entrance gate out the front window as the bus came to a halt. Gobbler’s Knob.
We hopped off the bus just before 4 a.m. at the open field outside of Punxsutawney, where a few thousand other lunatics had already arrived ahead of us, along with news trucks from The Weather Channel and other stations (but no sign of Phil Connors). Trudging through fresh snow, we passed through the front gates and scoped out a spot to stand and await the sunrise, over three hours away.
. . .
E: For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to experience Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney.
It’s a silly thing to have on a bucket list, really. But I grew up watching Bill Murray in the film Groundhog Day and longed to experience the festival for myself one day.
Years and years ago, I decided that day would be February 2, 2020.
Groundhog Day fell on a weekend, so Tim and I wouldn’t have to use any vacation time to try and fly standby out to Punxsutawney. I think Tim was hoping I’d forget. But sure enough, 2020 arrived and we made a wide open flight to Pittsburgh during the first weekend in February.
But the experience was far different than what’s portrayed in the movie. There’s no waking up at 6 a.m. to Sonny and Cher on the radio — or even in the comfort of a hotel.
Hotels are sparse in the small town of Punxsutawney, and waking up at 3 a.m. meant we really didn’t even need one. We did our research, packed sleeping bags in our carry-on bags and set off on one of our wackiest adventures yet.
E: Though the movie Groundhog Day wasn’t actually filmed in Punxsutawney, the town emits the same sort of vibe as the one in the movie. It’s relatively small and charming. There’s one main street with a few shops and cafes, a grocery store and a town square that served as a gathering place throughout the weekend.
Our first stop was Punxy Phil’s cafe — a stereotypical diner that just felt like the right place to eat.
I ordered a salad that came topped with french fries (I know. What in the world?) and Tim ordered a classic stack of pancakes. As we waited for our food, we studied the paper placemats in front of us that detailed the weekend’s festivities: Hayrides, dueling pianos, scavenger hunts and breakfast with Phil, just to name a few.
After lunch, we decided to take a hayride behind a tractor. We learned all about the town’s history from a man who knew everything there was to know about Punxsy. We must have learned a lot, but all I could do was think about how this old man had been giving tours all day without a hat or gloves. He must have been freezing.
. . .
T: One of the main headquarters for the day’s festivities was the Community Center, just a stone’s throw from downtown. For those spending the whole weekend in Punxsutawney, this place was a lifeline if only just to get out of the cold for a bit.
We stopped in several times, first to warm up and look around at the different crafts they had in the gymnasium. After supper, we returned to take in one of the highlights of the day in the auditorium: Watching Groundhog Day in Punxsutawney. We cheered along with everyone else each time the town was referenced. In some strange way it began setting the table for the next morning’s festive atmosphere, even if everyone had already seen it dozens of times.
Then after spending a little bit of time in the back of the town bar watching as much of the UND hockey game on our phones as we could, we wandered back to the community center. It had transformed into a “Crash Pad,” allowing weary Groundhog fans to sleep on the floor for $8. For some reason it sounded like a good idea.
E: As we stood in Gobbler’s Knob in the middle of the night, I realized just how crazy we were. We were freezing. We were exhausted. And we were standing here shoulder to shoulder with 25,000 other people just to see a groundhog.
But we embraced the situation — as we always do. We clutched our hand warmers a little tighter and eagerly anticipated the moment when Punxsy Phil would make an appearance and tell us whether or not we could expect an early spring.
The hours passed quickly as we were entertained by ridiculous songs, a talent show and even fireworks. We had a good spot just on the top of a small incline, which provided the ideal view of the stage.
Just after 7 a.m., 15 men in top hats walked toward the stage, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
The club members reached into the stump and hoisted Phil into the air for all to see. It was time.
The men had two scrolls, one for each of Phil’s potential predictions. Eventually, after consulting with the groundhog in “groundhogese,” a scroll was selected and read to the crowd.
“Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye,” it began. “Punxsutawney Phil, the Seer of Seers, Prognosticators of all Prognosticators, was awakened from his burrow to the cheers of thousands upon thousands of his faithful followers from around the world…”
As excited as I was to witness the moment we’d all been waiting for, I was relieved that we wouldn’t have to relive this day over and over again.
But finally, the scroll reached the line we were all waiting for: “For there is no shadow of me. Spring will be early, it’s a certainty!”
It was only the 18th time since 1887 that the Groundhog predicted an early spring.
Ironically, almost in that exact moment, it started to snow. And just like that, 25,000 people had to get back down to town.
T: Suddenly, that was it. Groundhog. No shadow. Spring. A celebration. And then a mad dash back down the hill.
Instead of standing around waiting to get on a bus back down toward town, we trudged across the highway and through trampled cornfields along with thousands of our fellow groundhog eyewitnesses the mile and a half or so back to town.
The whole trip felt like a triumph of absurdity — a day seized. It took waking up at 3 a.m., wearing three layers and standing out in the cold for hours, but making it to Gobbler’s Knob was a quintessential bucket list check-off. We were muddy, wet and cold, and tired beyond recognition. But as it always happens, there was no time to dwell on it. We had to hustle to get back to the airport and get on a flight.
The news of the groundhog’s lack of shadow had not reached Mother Nature’s desk in time to prevent several inches of wet, fluffy snow from piling up on our car and on the highways leading out of town.
It was a slog through winding turns and across rolling hills, but unlike Bill Murray, we made it back to Pittsburgh.
. . .
When we went: Early February 2020
Where we stayed: On the floor of the Punxsutawney Community Center. And also, the TownePlace Suites by Marriott Pittsburgh Airport/Robinson Township.
How long we stayed: Two nights, One and a half days
What we wish we knew before we went: There’s really not much to do in Punxsutawney. The Dueling Pianos show the night before was sold out by the time we arrived. Be sure to get tickets to events beforehand.
