Last night was my first night on the convention party beat and I hoped for something along the lines of our Unconventional Conventionaire , what with funny anecdotes and cute guys and booze and fun. But I either have horrible timing, or the invitations to the wrong parties, or shitty luck, or all of the above because the boldest faced names I saw all night were a Congressman whose name I couldn't remember and a bunch of other journalists. My night of misfortune, for your amusement, begins after the jump.
I finished with the Michelle speech, unplugged my computer and tried to meet up with friends. That was a poor decision to say the least, as it involved standing around the Pepsi Center, text messaging until we all realized it would be impossible to find one another indoors. I then went and found a friend outside who had no invites but a desire to be my plus-one for the night to see what would happen. What happened is that we ended up leaving so late that we had to walk to the event locations, which meant we were late to meet my friends for pre-drinks, which meant we were super-late getting to the first party.
That first party was the Planned Parenthood Party, which apparently was supposedly the place to be, as it was incredibly over-subscribed. There was a huge and motionless VIP line and an even longer general admission line, and people were passing out condoms to keep the crowd happy. Six of the seven people I walked over with bailed, and my plus-one and I had a discussion that involved me saying, "I have invites to 3 other parties, let's just bail." That got the list-girl interested, so she made a call to see if she could let me in, and her boss came out and in we went. We made a beeline for the bar. It was "open," but they weren't serving top- (or even middle-) shelf liquor, so I got a glass of wine, which was, in retrospect, a very poor decision. We weren't allowed into the VIP section because it was too full, and, trying to make our way back to the back corner to talk, someone elbowed me, spilling my wine all down the front of me. On the way out, I used my Tide Stain Stick to get the wine out of my shirt.
We made our way to a state delegation party to meet a friend of mine who was supposed to introduce me to make-up artist Bobbi Brown, but my friend and Bobbi were both gone and the party had already died. We drank anyway, and made our way up to the next party which featured cigars and fancy drinks. We ran into another reporter who said that she'd been in the line for the Planned Parenthood bash when the fire marshal arrived. Again, for it being barely midnight, the place was dying and there wasn't even a Congressman to brag about seeing. We drank our drinks, my friend got into some deep conversation about politics and I bailed for the night. What is with everyone going home early? How do I have more luck celebrity-spotting at the Atlanta airport?