Past Bedtime

In my neighborhood I believe that there are some babies who go to the bar more than I do. Everybody has seen babies at happy hour, bjorn sporting parents on barstools, and smelled that poopy diaper. I was out with my girlfriend last night listening to a dj when some people showed up to have a party for their 59 day old baby.

The baby was dressed very spiffy–plaid overalls, collared shirt, socks, so obviously he knew he was going to party. The baby’s uncle is extremely gregarious and he is moving about the bar asking women questions like, “Do you have any children?” Then he spies my button. Quickly he passes the baby off to the waitress and swoops in for a more depth conversation.

“I’m down with Obama!”

Me too!

“But is he electable?”

Of course, I feel he is very electable.

“I do too, but he does lack the foreign policy experience.”

Then my girlfriend jumps in and says, “Have you read his memoir? Not the big, fat book that’s on the NYT bestseller list right now, but the one that came out a few years ago. It’s about his childhood and growing up.”

“Well, maybe what he lacks in foreign policy experience is made up for by the fact he has a world view. Travel and living abroad is an education in itself.”

We all nod, and then suddenly the uncle heads for the bar. He is ordering shots. It is now time to drink to the baby. My girlfriend and I each receive a shot. It is also time to drink to Barack Obama.

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June 15, 2007. Barack Obama, New York City, Parents.

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