Crossposted from MY LEFT WING

The last time I spoke with John Gibson on his radio programme, I was just settling into my hotel room, preparing myself for what turned out to be the extraordinary and unique experience that was Yearly Kos.

I remember being taken aback by his first “question” — something about how “depressed” we all were at YKos because Zarqawi had been killed that day — because it was rife with cognitive dissonance. Not only was no one at YKos “depressed” about anything, Zarqawi’s death barely registered on most people’s radars that day. If anything, we were collectively circumspect, wondering if it really made that much of a difference. But certainly, no one felt anything remotely like disappointment or chagrin at the death of a known terrorist.

(Tonight I’ll be appearing on Gibson’s radio broadcast for what I believe is the 9th time this year; if you want to catch up, the appearances have been chronicled by intrepid MLWers on the My Left Wing Podcast)

I don’t know what the topic(s) will be tonight, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he wants my take on the 31 Democrats who voted against the Kerry-Feingold Resolution. Not that it’s that difficult to guess my take on them — they’re cowardly fucking douchebags for not standing up with the 13 who DID vote for it. Period.

Self-promotion aside, I’d like to give you a few impressions of my experience at Yearly Kos…

As I said, it was extraordinary and unique. To find oneself surrounded at any given time by hundreds of fellow liberal or Democratic bloggers — and sometimes both! — is to know, finally, that one is NOT alone in this seemingly endless and utterly depressing struggle to restore this nation, indeed, this world, to its rightful order.

My experience was also unique because I had a camera following me almost everywhere I went; for reasons which frankly escape me, the blogger known as Shockwave is producing a documentary about me. He hired my husband to operate the camera, which worked out well for me AND him, because I got to have my spousal unit with me in Vegas — and because I couldn’t intimidate Adam the way I probably could have anyone else… Suffice to say there is some footage of me I’d rather not have been shot.

So I met a great many people, too many to name. I was overwhelmed with the camaraderie, the intimacy, the instant recognition and bonding; it was as if, having known each other for so long online, meeting in person was merely the final step in the forging of friendships destined to flower forever.

Certainly, there were surprises both pleasant and not so pleasant… Of the hundreds of people I met, there were a few odd ducks here and there. I had two markedly distasteful experiences with individuals who WILL remain nameless — most notably because I didn’t know them to begin with and don’t care to know them further. But they were glaring exceptions to the rule.

On the whole, I was astonished to encounter so many engaging, personable, wildly intelligent and entertaining people. Some, of course, were to be expected — after all, we all know a few people online whose personalities are so powerful that meeting them in person and finding them dissimilar to their Internet personae would be a painful shock.

Such was the case with numerous bloggers whose introductions produced in me the sort of squealing delight ordinarily witnessed in teenaged girls proferred handshakes by Johnny Depp. Again, I will not go into the list of names — there were far too many marvelous people, and I just know if I started going down that list, I’d never publish this.

Shockwave and I teamed up with Booman and Jerome to give a KICK ASS party (which, unfortunately, competed with Mark Warner’s snazzy shindig, resulting in my absence at the latter and inability to comment thereon). It started at 7:30 — by 7:45 there were some 250-300 people milling through the 3 rooms. Thank gawd Shockwave got that extra room across the hall from our connected suite — as it was, the throngs spilled into the hallways and onto the fire escape. I made quite the ass of myself trying to corral everyone into the rooms, worried security would come and kick us all out.

At about the time Warner’s party was to begin, some 200 people disappeared, leaving the rest of the evening with a comfortable mix of a dozen to a few dozen bloggers, who came and went with regularity. Some 19 bottles of red wine and 13 of white lay empty by night’s end — god only knows how many beers and sodas. Well, god and housekeeping…

Our last guest left at 2:55am, and the next day it was agreed upon by most that the MLW/Booman/EuroTrib party had been THE event of the convention. But of course, we WOULD say that, wouldn’t we?

: )

I didn’t attend many of the panels. There was so much to do, so many events from which to choose; honestly, I was just happy to connect with people and move about in a near-constant haze of schmooziness. I did see Markos’s keynote, of course, and Barbara Boxer, and Harry Reid, Mark Warner’s speech. I missed Dean — that was the morning after the party, and try as I might to get out of bed, my poor broken down body refused. That is my one deep regret, missing Dean — but I’ll see him next year, I’m sure.

I could probably keep writing forever; as I try to bring this to a close, my mind insistently alights on memories:

Shaking hands with Wesley Clark and Joe Wilson; Clark has the softest hands I’ve ever touched in my life — and that includes my son in his infancy. Absolutely velvety…

Meeting Ariana Huffington and being amazed and slightly nonplussed to discover she knew who I was…

Reflecting on Warner’s speech, its merits and faults, his undeniable charisma clashing dissonantly with my disapproval of so many of his positions…

The bizarre push and pull of my own ego, torn between discomfort at the level of attention I got — and indignant not to be getting MORE… Yes. Yes, I am that pitiful.

And oh, so many people. So many wonderful, beautiful people. And how many I didn’t get to meet, simply because our paths didn’t cross. Ah, well… There’s always next year.