I am not a political science major. I have no history of interning on Capitol Hill, nor have I canvassed for a state rep, and I do not wear pajamas pants emblazoned with donkeys.
So the Lush felt a tiny bit out of her league when she attended an event this Monday in Washington, D.C.: a fundraiser for Hillary. Yeah, that Hillary.
And she was there.
Hillary has been my heroine since her days as First Lady, so when my parents invited me to join them in Washington for the event, I felt like a 6-year-old waiting for Christmas. I spent hours thinking about what I would say to her. And as any enterprising senior would wonder, could I ask her for a job?
I watched the reports about the Clinton and Obama on the plane with a growing sense of surrealism. This race for the candidacy seemed closer than ever when I landed in Dulles. Would this event get press coverage?
Probably not, but that didn't make it any less exciting. Especially when I met my parents after they flew in from Buffalo and they told me the cocktail party would be at her house.
So far, there's been plenty of Traveling, but you may be wondering where the Lush comes in. Don't worry, I took full advantage of JetBlue's $5 wine selection and a heavenly dinner at 1789 in Georgetown - Caesar salad, red snapper and Sauvignon Blanc. If only the Lush lifestyle could be so grand every week. I cleared my plate and still had room for the biggest Irish coffee I'd ever laid eyes on.
So the ride to the Clinton's house was giddying, thanks in part to not a small amount of that Irish coffee. Yet when I stepped out of the car in the gated community of mansions and took a look at the throng of aides and valets escorting everyone into the house, I felt a little different. Like I should just head back to the hotel to raid the minibar and rent Hairspray.
The crowd inside didn't help - there was a decidedly un-party-like atmosphere. Everyone wanted a piece of Hillary, and my plans to schmooze and network went out the door. When she arrived, I only had about two minutes to gawk before my parents and I were escorted to her side and introduced by a family friend: The Pecks from Buffalo.
The words I'd composed in my head throughout the past days promptly disappeared as I shook her hand. Someone said, "Katherine's at Tufts" and Hillary asked what I was studying with a big smile. "English Lib - er... English Literature," I stammered, dismayed at my inability to command the language that's supposedly my forté. "That's wonderful!" she exclaimed.
And then my Dad interrupted us to talk to her about the Bills - yeah, the football team. An aide escorted me off towards a table of miniature cr??me br?»lées. My mom and I got vodka tonics and tried not to bump into any ambassadors.
So that was my moment with Hillary. Later she said a few words and retired for the night, leaving my mom and I to check out the bookshelves, family photos ("Hey, I know that guy!") and artwork (was that really a Chihuly?). Oh, and I was introduced to Governor Martin O'Malley of Maryland, but then my dad interrupted me to talk to him about the Ravens - yeah, the football team.
Kate Peck is a senior majoring in English. She can be reached at Katherine.Peck@tufts.edu.
