The Hotel Bar

I am the designated reporter from the hotel bar. Liz is an early-to-bed, early-to-rise kind of woman. I am much more likely to be up at midnight on any given day, so I have been assigned the hazardous duty of keeping an eye on the action at the 65th Parish (our delegation’s temporary name for the bar) and sharing what I hear and see. This is a job fraught with peril. If I say too much, people will be rightfully ticked off. If I say too little, this blog will be boring.

Behind the bar was a water jar with a dispenser, filled with pineapple and Tito’s Handmade Vodka. It was eleven dollars for a glass on the rocks (tip not included).

Sunday night got off to an interesting start with a sighting of the actor Morgan Fairchild and investigative journalist Michael Isikoff having dinner together. A Louisiana party official cut a dashing figure in his straw hat, flirting with the star.

The subject of the night, though, was politics. I’m a rookie at this reporting thing, so I’ll have to learn to move around and mingle better. I dove deep into the weeds of how to talk about trade policy with a Hillary delegate. It was fun and energizing and the time flew by. I didn’t get a chance to schmooze with many more people, which was a shame because a lot of the delegation was there.

I’ll do better tomorrow.

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