As I climbed the stairs from the subway headed for Penn station, the strap on my enormous bag broke, so I was left carrying it like a sack of potatoes. Which was a huge bummer because I'd left my other bags in Brooklyn.
Lisa was waiting for me inside the station, and we boarded the train to Washington, DC. It was close to 90 degrees when we exited the train station to board the subway, and on the subway, lo-fi advertising for Nike flashed at us inside the tunnel. Ugh.
We schlepped ourselves to the coolness of a hotel several blocks away, unloaded our stuff, and headed to tonight's party, just a few blocks from our hotel and graciously hosted by a longtime reader, her roommate, and another friend.
About 18 people came and much of the night was spent in a big circle on the patio outside, where we talked about the magazine, the addictiveness of pop culture, feminism in DC, and the local nonprofit industrial complex. Mosquitoes bit us relentlessly, but it didn't dampen the experience a bit. We felt loved and honored to be a part of such a great group of people.
After, we went to dinner with Ann Friedman, talented and brilliant web editor at The American Prospect and feministing.com editor, where we talked about independent publishing, life in DC, San Francisco, and Portland, and ways to fundraise for feminist media.
After that, it was back to our hotel. We watched an episode of The Family Guy and expressed confusion as to what the fuss is all about. I mean, the mom and the talking baby are ok, but really? What's the big deal?