The Southern Baptist Girl's First DC Cocktail Party

I'm told that no time in Washington DC is complete without a fancy cocktail party. As of Wednesday night, however, my time was complete.

My friend Peter works at Human Events, a very conservative newspaper that seems to be connected with every well-heeled right-winger within a 3,000 mile radius. Unlike my employer, Religion News, they like cocktails. They like parties. And for some reason, they were able to find probably the only 10 conservatives grad students in the nation of France, bring them to the U.S., and this was a cause for a celebration.

Initially, we thought the event was a soiree at the French Embassy. I was thinking maybe Sarkozy might make a cameo appearance. We found out by the time we arrived at a miniature, underlit apartment in Arlington that this was something a little less ... groundbreaking.

Peter, being the classy one, decided it would be apropos to bring a fine wine to the party. So on our walk from the bus stop to the event, we stopped in at a little liquor store. I know virtually nothing about wine (although there is something to say for that occasional Presbyterian communion) but we thought it would be a nice touch to bring a Canadian wine, since he's from Canada. Of course, we all know that California wines are better and Al's Liquor isn't well-versed in imports, so we chose out a 2005 vintage merlot from Sonoma. Peter, being of age, took care of that.

The party itself was small and inhabited by an eclectic mix of French grad students and 30-something single guys with receding hairlines, working for various think tanks. Everyone was sipping wine and smoking cigarettes, except us ... I stuck to the ice water and Pepsi.

At one point our host brought out a tempting (haha) platter of bread and pate. When one of the French girls turned her nose up at the pate, I decided it probably wasn't safe. But Peter was brave and tried a bit of the delicacy.

Pate, as I later learned is francais for "rabbit liver." Yes. Rabbit liver.

At first we talked to a random guy named Steve. He was short, friendly, obsessed with his job and had this crazy way of smoking Parliaments -- he didn't want to blow the smoke in our faces so he directed it at a 45 degree angle out of the side of his mouth. I'm not going to lie, that was impressive.

We escaped from Steve before he could go on too long about his life in a cubicle. We then talked with two guys from another conservative think tank. One of the two, Robert, attended Claremont McKenna College (which I was almost going to go to until I had a change of heart before my senior year) and bantered on about California. Apparently, he lived half a mile from Snoop Dogg and was known as a champion of Woodchuck Rum-drinking contests.

Of course, guys like this can go on forever. Although I think Peter and I were somewhat lost during the conversation, we tried to play it off like we weren't interns. Unfortunately, the fact that all I have are Eaglevision business cards kinda ruins that act.

After 2 1/2 hours of mingling, we finally slipped out. If I ever move to DC, this will be life -- sipping Pepsi with the Steves and Roberts of the world -- haha!

Starving, we hit up the Chipotle until the cleaning ladies booted us out, and we both concluded that Mexican food trumps pate and merlot any day.

It may not be what we had expected, but it was hilarious and fun nonetheless. Thanks for the invite, Peter!