An intrusion from the past provides a brief break from local matters…
Wouldn’t you feel horrified if, while numbly observing the latest in the hog-manure lagoon eruption that is the Supreme Court nomination saga, you suddenly realized that you had been at a ‘wild house party in Bethesda in the early 1980s’? (Maybe more than one, but probably not, whatever.)
You would think: Oh my God! I was there! (Perhaps! Aarghh!)
And you would rack your brain for reasons to believe this was a totally different occasion, and nothing to do with the tawdry icky vile stuff now being regurgitated in slow motion and Technicolor all over the Senate confirmation hearings.
So… The event, so far as I remember, was tediously rather than alarmingly or obnoxiously loud and raucous. And the ambience was more trying-to-act-grown-up – the Kavanaugh crowd can’t have been quite the right age group.
I recall getting bored and leaving, walking briskly the whole way down Wisconsin Avenue back to downtown Preppy-dom. At the dead of night in Mayor Marion Barry’s murder capital. It took half an hour – as everyone points out concerning the links among the Beltway ‘incoherently drunk’ brat elite, DC is a small place.