Mission accomplished (if our mission was "drink and heckle")

Well, we did it. Last night, two friends and I ventured past the first tier of security guards and made our way within steps of the Xcel. And as much as I would love to tell you all about it with the level of detail and amusement you deserve, I stayed out entirely too late infiltrating the Republicans and hence, a list of highlights is all you're gonna get before my tired head falls flat against my keyboard with an unmomentous thud.

So then. The highlights, as I recall them, in traditionally lazy list form, but this time with NUMBERS instead of bullets, in an effort to prove that this isn't just like Tuesday's post; I'm totally shaking things up here.

1. Absurd things I cannot believe I saw while pacing the stretch of street just outside the security fence:
   
   a. A 20-something man wearing a button that said, "I'm Pro-Hot VP." (I have typed three different sentences trying to sum up my reaction to this, but I've deleted all of them and instead just have to shake my head and say "No comment.")
   
   b. An international antiques shop window filled at all angles with rows of elephants.
   
   c. The divey bar where I once saw a college kid vomit on the floor five feet away from me, temporarily(?) converted into a much flashier establishment labeled in superfluous neon as "The CNN Grill."
   
   
2. Me, at the Liffey, shortly before Palin's speech: "Let's turn it into a drinking game!" Unfortunately, none of us knew enough about her to predict any repetitive phrases or talking points. "Do you think she'll say 'terrorists' a lot? What about 'hockey mom'? Oh! Moose! Do you think she'll mention moose more than once??"
   
   
3. Me, once our new friend (who is visiting the Twin Cities from San Francisco) began openly and loudly heckling the TV screen: "Are we going to get kicked out??" Answer: No. However at one point, someone not amused by his comments shouted back in our direction, "She can't hear you, you know!" To which our new friend immediately quipped, "Yeah, but YOU GUYS can!" It may have been my favorite moment of the night.
   
   
4. Except wait. Maybe my favorite point was when the attractive guy Carrie and I had both been eyeing made his way over to our table and let us know that despite the fact that he was in a suit, he was not ONE OF THEM. "I'm here to infiltrate!" he said. "That's what WE'RE doing!" I replied.
   
   
5. Also of note: the very drunk, late-middle aged east coast delegate with seven houses (he assured me he had counted them) who slurred to me that if I want to live a happy life, I should never get married and--oh yeah--also that the reason I'm not a fan of Sarah Palin must be that I'm gay. Gay. Because that makes sense. Stellar reasoning from the drunk Republican. Maybe that's why he was only an alternate delegate. Incidentally, I tried to take a picture of this charming man, but he ran from my camera as though he thought I was going to post his picture on the Internet. Which, you know, I would never do. Not me. No how. Nope.
   
   
   
   I had no idea the quickest way to make an unwanted Republican go away was to threaten to photograph him. My friend Carrie suggested that perhaps he's a vampire. A Republican vampire. And cameras are to Republican vampires what garlic and crosses are to regular ones. (It's a theory.)
   
   
6. Oh, and I was also told three times in the same evening that I "kinda look like [Palin]." You know, because just like Asians and black men, all brown-haired women with glasses look alike. Or so it would seem.
   

And with that, I believe I am officially DONE talking about the visiting blowhards and we can get back to our regularly scheduled frivolity about bad dates and misadventures and the absurd ways I routinely injure myself. 3Carnations? Are you still here? I promise it's safe to come out now (for a while, anyway).