Do you know anyone else who could accidentally end up at an election-watching/victory party for McCain-Palin?
I didn’t think so.
In my own defense: not all of our neighbors wear their yardsigns on their sleeves. Before you tell me “every Virginian is a redneck republican” crap, I’ll remind you that Alexandria went to Obama by 72% and the only surprise has been that it wasn’t higher. This is Communist Northern Virginia I’m in, not Real America Virginia.
My brain was off in NaNoWriMo World when they invited me and it took me a few minutes to realize that I was in the belly of the beast. You’d think the lifesize cardboard cutouts of McCain and Palin would have tipped me off, but I thought they were being ironic. I believe, much to my horror, that I actually pronounced them cool. My memory may be playing games on me, but when reality dawned on me it seemed like the moment in a horror movie when one realizes that one is at a party of aliens. Or satanists.
I’m not referring to Republicans as satanists. Only Sarah Palin supporters.
No I’m not.
Maybe I am.
At any rate, I had to make small-talk for a while and the 1st rule of cocktail party chatter: no politics, was moot. Ditto the second rule: no religion. I did the only thing I could think of: I talked a lot about the sex-toy give-away. I felt like a lizard discarding it’s tail to create a distraction so I could escape a predator, but whatever. I didn’t want to burn any bridges – not even the bridge to nowhere.
That, kids, is why you don’t take candy, or martinis, from strangers. Or neighbors who you don’t know as much about as you think you do.