Party with the Prez

It turns out that security will let anyone into a White House party…. assuming you’re on the guest list.

On Monday night I was lucky enough to score a spot at one of the White House holiday parties. Camouflaged in civilized clothing — a dress, heels and wielding even a purse — I blended in with the throng of journalists who abandoned notebooks, tape records and laptops in favor of eggnog, cocktails and hors d’ oeuvres.
The evening was part-White House wonder — sipping wine in the blue room while gazing out over the south lawn, and part Disneyland — lines, lines and more lines.

There were lines for security, for x ray machines, for the coat check. There was even a line to wait in another line. Granted, Disney doesn’t dole out drinks to the idle masses, nor are gourmet appetizers available at arm’s reach.

The final line snaked down a long hall and funneled attendees to a photo-op with the President and First Lady. It’s funny that a minute lasts an eternity when you’re trudging on the gym’s elliptical machine, but an introduction and photo op with the President flies by with the blink of an eye.

If Obama was tired of grinning and greeting guest upon guest, he didn’t show it. And the First Lady was equally affable and totally glamorous.

Not to mention, tall. During the photo op, I’m fairly certain that my arm fell well below the First Lady’s waist. What can I say…I’m height-challenged. By no means did I try to cop a feel.

At the end of the night I ate my fill of food, drank in the White House decor, and stuffed my purse full of cookies for the kids.


Minutes spent waiting in line:40
Number of ashtrays, hand towels and other souvenirs stolen: 0
Visits to the appetizer table: 4
Salahi jokes made prior to the party: too many to count!