The best sleepover EVER.

I hate to get all mushy, but I have to give shoutouts to some people who made this week’s coverage a) possible and b) a hell of a lot more fun.

Shoutouts:

To the crew at NorthDecoder, for being my table buddies and giving advice and snark and friendly hellos all week, and for schooling me about why Tom Daschle might not entirely suck. I learned a lot from the state bloggers in the Tent, about why they elect and support the people they do, and I’m profoundly grateful for their argument and input. I’m also happy they cheered for Kerry with me, because I was a lonely voice doing that in the Tent.

To theFlorida Progressive Coalition, who worked hard and partied hard and babysat my laptop while I went for beer or an interview or some pizza. You guys were a real hardass news team, and I’m so glad I got to meet you all.

To the Politico-taunting, security-line-jumping, snarking, cheering, bead-wearing be-political-buttonedSinfonian, who lent me a press pass and said, “Let’s see how far we get with this.” If I had to go a mile high again, you’re the one I’d pick to climb next to.

To the crew at The Big Tent. You’ve got to understand, this place was literally built of tarp and plastic, and at the end of every night it looked like a frat party had exploded all over. It was hot. It smelled. There were beer cups and pizza crusts and geeks all over every single flat surface. There were suitcase-sized batteries that kept burning out because we all needed to charge our laptops and PDAs and camera batteries and brains at once. VIPs and press came through like it was a zoo: “Let’s observe the creatures in their natural habitat.” The Cspan feeds got fucked up. And every morning, it was clean, cool, ready for another day of craziness beyond anything I’ve ever seen, the volunteers were warm and friendly and patient, and generally rocked the house. I wouldn’t have been able to do half of what I did without them. Starbucks only puts up with you camping there for so long. Like the blogosphere, the Tent was desperately ad hoc, and all the better for it.

To my hosts E.Wiggins and his lovely wife L, and darling baby S, who handed me a hosue key and showed me the buses and schedules, and then set me loose and didn’t mind when I stumbled in, reeking of coffee and car exhaust and Fat Tire beer, at 1 a.m. and earlier. Again, could not have done a single thing without you. I will return the favor any time, you have only to call. Kissy-kiss that little baby’s fuzzy head for me.

To the crew atThe Daily Cardinal, who brought hometown convention coverage like it ought to be brought. The kids are more than alright. The kids make me proud to have once called myself a journalist. They’ll be reporting from the RNC next week, so Wisconsinites, bookmark ’em.

ToReno and Its Discontents, Texas Kaos, The Daily Kingfish, Indecision 2008, and all the other bloggers I met, who kicked ass and took names, and I mean kicked ass and took names. Lots of names. I have a stack of business cards a mile (heh) high that I need to go through.

For Boulder residents BuggyQ and LC, who came down to celebrate and catch up, and were in all things completely fantastic.

And to all of you, for hanging in as I popped in and out of the crack van like a psychotic Convention Bunny, for commenting and reading and supporting and rocking and rolling through this crazy week. Though we get a few ads now and then, First Draft is mostly reader-supported, and your contributions helped send me to Denver. I hope it was worth it for you.

A.