Intrepid online investigative reporter Larisa is in Washington for the Online News Association 2008 Annual Conference & Awards Banquet from
Sept. 11-13 and is having some interesting adventures that she is writing about on her blog. Enjoy.http://www.atlargely.com/2008/09/larisas-adven-2.html#moreLarisa's adventures in DC, day four...I have stumbled into the twilight zone. Let me recount today's adventures in extra-long detail for you, because you really have to see this entire epic unfold.
Let Us Pray...I stopped by to visit a friend of mine also in town for the awards who happens to be staying at the "Hinckley" Hilton. The hotel is really called the Washington Hilton Hotel, but is nicknamed the "Hinckley" because this is where John Hinckley Jr. shot then-President Ronald Reagan. Now before arriving at the Hinckley, I had no idea it was nicknamed in such an ominous way. It was only after I was getting out of the taxi did the cabbie tell me this particular piece of information. I confirmed this with a doorman, who giggled and told me that yes indeed; this was the nickname for the hotel.
This then is the set on which the following drama will unfold. As it turns out, this particular hotel was in beginning stages of welcoming a large gathering of sorts, a conference of called the "values voters." I knew this because there was a huge sign at the entrance welcoming these people and their values, at which a young blond stood looking rather confused.
I had to ask, as I imagine you would want me to, just what the "values voter" is and why so many of them have gathered at the Hinckley. So I approached this frightened little creature who seemed very nervous about her role as the official sign-girl. I asked her what a "values" voter" is and she handed me, wait for it... a pink sticker with I heart Palin on it.
So, having now established that being a values voter has something to do with stickers and Sarah Palin, I asked the young lady what it was that made her so like Ms. Palin. Now I was genuinely curious and not attempting to annoy the girl in any way. I really was trying to get to the bottom of this new found love for a woman no one new only a few days ago. Her answer to my question? In a twitchy sort of way she explained her reason for why Ms. Palin deserves to be president (I first had to explain that as the VP of a 72 year old president, the odds were that Palin might actually become number one - or as the polite saying goes, a "heartbeat" away) was that she did not have an abortion.
Now I understand how sensitive this topic is on both sides of the argument and so I had no intention of getting into a pro-choice vs. pro-pre-life debate with anyone, let alone with so many people on the opposite side of my opinion all gathered together and likely to stampede. But I have to say this out-loud, because the reasoning behind the fitness of Palin to be the leader of the free world should have a bit more to do with the actual world and less to do with something as person as the lack of an abortion, no? Surely someone who is a heartbeat away from the presidency of the United States should have more substance and be better qualified than merely their very private choice about having or not having a baby? It became clear rather quickly that anything more out of my mouth might be insulting or percieved as insulting, so I thanked the young lady and walked very quickly away and very quickly toward the hotel bar - at which I assumed the rest of us heathen would be located, no doubt speaking in some evil tongue and performing mass abortions on the bar top.
Ah, but where there is a heathen, there too shall be an evangelical so sayeth the lord. It was quickly obvious that many of the congregants, err, attendees of "value" were in need of the unholy water tap, but who am I to judge anyway? As I was sitting down I happened to notice a large gathering of ladies going ooh and ahh all over the place. Being a rather girlie girl myself, I was naturally intrigued by such passion and envisioned that Balenciaga must have unveiled its new version of the City bag).
I went over and asked them what was so exciting (they too were stickered in support of Palin by the way). Apparently, it was not anything involving Balenciaga, rather - as they recounted - a Baldwin brother was in the bar.
My brother Daryl and my other brother Daryl...One of the women (bleached blond, wearing a dress too tight for her rather ample figure) literally squealed that it was Alec Baldwin. Another woman (with long red hair, stick-thin figure and in a pair of slacks so tight they looked painful) was very quick to correct the blond by telling me it was actually Alexander Baldwin.
When I pointed out that Alec is short for Alexander and that he was the only Baldwin to have either name (because after all, why would anyone name two children in the same family with the same name?), the redhead became very clearly upset. A long and surreal conversation then took place in which the blond and the redhead took turns trying to convince me who the mystery Baldwin was. The readhead was adamant that the person - whom I could still not see from my position in the bar - was indeed Alexander, the "only conservative brother" and that "he was at the hotel as a keynote speaker" at the values voter gig.
At this point you have likely realized that the Baldwin being described, although named incorrectly by these two ladies was in fact Stephen Baldwin. But I had to be sure - why I don't know - so I walked by. Yes, it was indeed Stephen Baldwin and with him was a woman whom I presume to be his wife (if not, sorry Mrs. Baldwin) and another woman who was rather tiny and wearing dark sunglasses in an already extremely dark bar. She also had a walkie-talkie. Apparently this is the Jane Bond, detailed to protect Stephen from the likes of bible-thumping fans all dying to jump his soul, or something equally holy.
Now this guy is fairly buff, so why is his security detail a slip of a woman? It just seemed like bad casting all around, including the half-brain dead fans who were squealing with joy but could not correctly name the object of their hysteria. I went back to the two ladies, turned to the redhead and told her that she was right, it was in fact Alexander Baldwin and that she should go ask for his autograph and in particular, mention that her favorite film of his is The Departed (I could not help myself. Horrible, I know).
This was becoming a rather interesting turn of events in some magical way where things are not at all real and very real at the same time for lack of a better explanation. In any case, I then went back outside to have a cigarette and called my friend - the person I had originally come to see at the Hinckley - to ask her to come down and watch the Baldwin autograph saga unfold (yes, it was horrible of me, I know).
I found a bench outside, and sat down to have a smoke just as two ladies came out to do the same. Soon, the three of us were laughing at the strangeness of the whole values vs. heathen concept as the criteria for voting a particular way. This is in fact what I hate about labels that the far right attaches to themselves as though they are somehow of better cloth than the rest of us. My values may be different than the ones on display by the nearly all white, seemingly all wealthy, congregants at this event, but they are stil values. To say that voters with values were gathered here as though no other values could exist outside of this sphere of dellusion is really offensive to me. So the three of us out smoking like the heathen that we are, joked about our lack of values or stickers.
The dark beauty...One of the two women out smoking with me was absolutely stunning, dark, and exotic. She seemed strangely familiar, but surely I would have remembered meeting such a striking woman before. I asked her where she was from and she told me Iran. Now I only know how to say one thing in Farsi and that is "may I offer you some tea," which I said. She laughed and I laughed, and again she seemed so familiar I was confused.
Then it dawned on me who she was, because I had just recently seen the film The House of Sand and Fog. If you have not yet guessed, the actress in question is Shohreh Aghdashloo. I said nothing, as is my policy in such situations. People are not comfortable at being recognized, especially when they are not expecting to be. So we continued our giggles and smoking for a few more minutes. On a side note, I suggest you Google images of her, because I cannot do justice to this woman's beauty. She was charming and witty too by the way. By this time my friend had come down, eager to witness my prank (yes, I know it was horrible of me) on the redhead and the right-wing Baldwin. She was completely shocked when instead of finding me at the bar with watching the Baldwin saga, she instead found me sitting on a bench with a stunning actress instead. It was all very confusing to say the least and I am still rather confused by the whole chain of events myself, including the rest shortly to follow.
Lobster Me...The rest of my day - thus far - was anti-climactic, but funny at my own expense. I decided - because I am far too idiotic for my own good - that I needed a tan. After all, this dark beauty was stunning and pasty-faced women like me would love nothing more than a healthy "natural tan." So why not go and buy one, right? So I found a little tanning place on the way back to my own hotel.
I have never done this before, but I was drunk with the idea that I too could be dark and mysterious if I only had some additional pigment. So, I got into the ultra-violate coffin - because that is exactly what it is and exactly what it looks like - for a 9 minute session of "natural roasting." When I got out, I was disappointed to find that I was still as white as a ghost, but was assured by the very dark (naturally?) gay man who had been helping learn how to operate the coffin that the tan would emerge in a few hours.
I was hopefull again. I went back to my hotel room and dozed off for an hour or so when I was suddenly awakened by an intense feeling that my entire left side was on fire. Sure enough, my "natural tan" turned out to be a half-red version of my former self. I was bright, lobster red, and ONLY on one side. Normally, I would just laugh this off as yet another Larisa- foible, but the awards are tomorrow. I have less than 24 hours to figure out how to make the right side of my body as red as the left side or how to make my left side as white as my right side.
My friends, this is my dilemma now. I am seared and look horrible. I called my aunt who quickly had a solution for me, apparently one that she has used in the past. Now sit down for this. My aunt suggested that I try urine (yes, that is exactly what she suggested) to quell the sunburn and mayo to lift some of the redness. When I asked where I would get this urine and how I would use it, she laughed at me as though I were some fool from the backwoods. Seriously, what would you ask if someone said try urine?
Anyway, apparently this urine remedy is from the old world and one is to use their own urine, preferably in a small container like a cup. Then, a few strips of cotton or cloth are soaked in your urine and gently and lightly dabbed onto the burned area. I don't know about you and I certainly have nothing again my urine, but the idea of this entire experiment sounds a little yucky to me.
So, anyone have any other ideas that do not involve urine or any form of bodily fluid, animal carcass or devil worship? This is an emergency people, so get to it. I need a way to look all one color again before tomorrow night. This is not a test, this is a red alert, quite literally.
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