Outwit, outlast, outparty at the DNC
By Beth Teitell
Wednesday, July 28, 2004
Are you tired of reading about all that coconut cumin soup and crab dip you won't be enjoying? Annoyed at the breathless accounts of no-access-for-you, celeb-rich parties? Tired of the delegates having all the fun?
I was, on your behalf. In the name of public service, I ripped off my press pass, put on a strand of pearls, and decided to see if a civilian lab rat could make it through the ID-check maze. I thought of it as my own reality TV show, ``Survivor: DNC.''
The premise: Could I scavenge enough seared tuna and Clos du Bois to survive on, armed with only a CVS clipboard, a homemade name tag and my wits?
Trying not to think about the security flanking the Boston Public Library on Sunday, I held my clipboard as if I were an official (catering? DNC?) and embedded myself in a group of guests at the Mass. delegation party.
``I'm in!'' I thought, as the scent of hors d'oeuvres greeted me, when a bouncer blocked my path: ``ID?'' I pointed to the flimsy tag I'd printed earlier.
Long story short: Busted, I fled the party - without even spotting Ted - tossed the clipboard, invested $15 in a bouquet, and attempted to party with the Illinois delegation at the ICA.
I breezed past the greeters, but this time I knew to fear the name checkers. ``I just want to sneak these in to a friend,'' I said, holding my sunflowers aloft.
The volunteer's laughter tinkling in my wake, I knocked back a California roll and some chardonnay, with plenty of time left to hit the New England delegate parties at the MFA (I got in, but was assigned an escort to help me find my mythical friend), and at Northeastern, where I not only enjoyed a Fenway frank and a Sam Adams, but posed for a picture with the Florida delegates. ``Everyone smile!'' I called out.
On Monday, full of confidence, I lost the props and decided to brazen it out.
At Locke Ober, I gave my real name and waited for it be ``found'' on the list. When it wasn't, I accepted a hastily written name tag and went in. At Goulston & Storrs, I gained entree by pretending to look for a friend. Alas, after a few moments, my ruse was discovered and I was essentially asked to leave both parties.
Changing tactics, I arrived at Tia's Waterfront before the National Democratic Institute guests, and simply let them fill in around me. I took in the harbor view, wolfed down shrimp and scallops, declared my personal victory - and then scurried for the exit.
