In Which The Mayoress Decides to Dash to Denver

A few months ago, I decided I had to be at the Democratic National Convention. 

I'm not an elected official, I didn't land superdelegate status, and volunteers were overstaffed by the time I logged onto the DNC website. 

But those are just details.

So I bought my (painfully oil-saturated) plane ticket, found a couch to crash on just 10 blocks from the Convention Center, and suddenly, things started coming together. An art exhibition here, a press pass offer there... and everyone who finds out that I'm going to Denver wants to be part of it.

While I usually find unsolicited blogs to be painfully self-indulgent, I decided I need to chronicle this experience.  As someone who's a former Republican, sits on the divide between Gen-X and Gen-Y, a New Yorker, multiracial, and finally inspired by a movement in our country after years of disappointment, I have a feeling my experience in Denver will speak to a lot of people.  

So feel free to forward, comment, syndicate, plagiarize, anything that makes you part of the party.