DC is a fairly sleepy place most of the time. Or, rather, when people aren't sleeping it's because they're working rather than having fun. But once every four years all the parties happen at once, as each state throws a knees-up to celebrate/commiserate about who is moving into that white building at the centre of town.
So Hannah, in her ambassadorial role, got tickets to a few inauguration balls, mostly to babysit Chevron board members and their wives. But I did manage to sneak into one as her arm candy, and it was the biggest and best of them. Texas!
Luckily we know the Muckers of Texas, who babysat Pete and loaned me everything I needed to look like a cattle/oil baron. All I had to add were my own cowboy boots, which I scored from a thrift store for $8 (50% discount with my Value Village loyalty card). I may possibly have given my non-Texas-ness away the second I opened my mouth, but I was quite impressed by my look if I stayed quiet. I attracted the attentions of more than one Dallas divorcee.
Among the other 10,000 people at the ball there were some genuine Texans, a lot of ten gallon hats, plenty of...er...expensive chest enhancements, and a full line-up of country music stars and dancers, across four ballrooms. Oh, and The Beach Boys, or the two of them who still tour. You could buy paintings of Trump at a silent auction (no one had) or guitars signed by Willie Nelson and Phil Collins (yes, renowned Texan Phil Collins). When some big Republicans gave the inevitable speeches from the main stage and asked shoutingly "How many of y'all voted for Trump?" the response was muted.
All extremely fun and bizarre. But then bizarre is how things have been for a while now, and how I imagine they'll continue for four years until the next parties. Tomorrow we're off into town for the Million Women March. Checks and balances!
Immigrants, anchor baby.
A lot of "Texans", and some Texans.
Free bar. No more questions.
They had an excellent, mellow singer-songwriter room upstairs.
And downstairs it was all kicking off! These are the Lil' Wranglers of College Station, TX, and they were amazing.
Want this hanging on your wall?
How about a Willie Nelson signed guitar? He's from Texas, at least.
Watching some of The Beach Boys, 50 years after their sell-by date.
OK, it's decided: we're dumping DC and moving to Texas to start a cattle ranch/dance club. Much more straightforward than being around here at the moment.
