I met a guy named Fred at the party that was at the W. We had some great conversations. I told him I was heading to New York, and he joked about doing a Crasher in my place. He ended up writing this piece, and asked me to post it, which I'm happy to do. Keep in mind, it's a rough draft. We didn't have the Readers crack staff of proof readers and editors go thru it with a fine tooth comb.

I liked Freds details, like describing the food. Or, the description of the radio interview. Most movies (Talk Radio, etc), don't show that aspect. I think only a Wayne's World did that, with Harry Shearer (who has a great radio show), not paying attention to Mike Myers and Dana Carvey.

I also like the CityBeat guy not knowing who I am. Or even caring to talk to the Reader. Those guys over there, do a real disserve to their readers when they take shots at the Reader constantly. But, enough of my gibber gabering, onto Fred's write up:

Election Central at Golden Hall, June 3rd, 2008

Fred Williams filling in as an amateur volunteer Party Crasher

I arrived just after 8 p.m. The first thing I noticed was a group of Ron Paul supporters. One of them handed me a copy of the Constitution and Declaration of Independence. Libertarian Congressional candidate Michael Benoit was being interviewed by what looked like students with a video camera. Soon after, he and his supporters crowded in front of a real news camera, holding their signs high and shouting "I like Mike!"

I wondered if they also like the other Mike in the race, our City Attorney Mike Aguirre. But Aguirre himself was in New Jersey attending his daughter's graduation. This was just as well, since he came in second, falling behind Jan Goldsmith. I guess not as many people like Mike as was once thought.

I was distracted from ruminating on the Mikes by an introduction to Eric Wolff, a fine reporter at CityBeat. I shook his hand, told him I admired his reporting, and asked a few questions. Had he been here before?

"No, this is my first time at Golden Hall"

"How will you go about getting stories?"

"I find them just walking around. Hey, why are you writing this down?"

"Oh, I'm doing Party Crasher for Josh Board while he's on vacation."

"What's Party Crasher? Are you writing an article?"

"You know, that thing in the Reader where Josh goes to parties and writes about it. It's just for the blog."

"I'm not comfortable being interviewed by the Reader. I'm stopping this conversation right now!"

"It's not a news article, just something about the party here tonight."

Wolff wouldn't listen, turned his back on me, and stalked off in a huff. A few hours later I bumped into him again. I smiled and asked how it was going. He again gave me a dirty look and turned his back to me.

I think Eric Wolff's article on the SDSU drug busts was the best reporting that story has received. So I was disappointed he refused to even talk to me. Time to find something to eat and drink.

Upstairs in back is the Silver Hall, which naturally enough is only a fraction of the size of Golden Hall. Inside, the Democrats had put together a party of sorts. A mellow jazz band, two guitars, stand up bass, and clarinet played softly in the corner, ignored by the candidates and campaigners in the room. The party platters included two types of chips, veggies, cold cuts and crackers. No free drinks in sight.

Sixth Avenue Bistro had the bar concession for the night. $2.50 for soft drinks, $5 for a beer, and $7.50 for a cocktail.

Liam, 8, and his brother Patrick 10, were the ones enjoying themselves the most, though they weren't even drinking. "I'm too young to vote, but I can make a difference," said Patrick. His brother was more interested in the chips and cold cuts, but equally enthusiastic to be participating. "Elections are fun!" he said.

Certainly, Duncan Hunter would agree. The son and grandson of local Republican stallwarts, Hunter had just been declared a member of congress by Roger Hedgecock. "We're not only going to win back congress for Republicans, we're gonna win it back for conservatives!"

It was odd watching the body language up on the AM 600 stage. Hedgecock would ask a question, and instead of watching the interviewee rifle through his notes or gaze out at the crowd. The other two professional talkers also avoided looking at the interview subject. This left Hunter attempting to make it sound like a conversation, when really he was looking around trying to make eye contact with the clearly disinterested Hedgecock. But on the radio it sounds like they're chatting away like good chums.

Eric Bidwell was having a grand time. The Revolutionary Mayor's supporters had transformed a Sanders sign into a Bidwell sign, with graphics and slogans artfully arranged to cover up Sander's name. He wore a longish black coat and black pants. When I shook his hand, he was grinning widely. I scored a Bidwell sticker and post card size flyer for a Czech friend who came along to observe the American electoral process in action.

Petr, a post-doctoral researcher at Scripps, was bright eyed watching all the action.

"What is voting on?"

"It's for the whole County of San Diego, Mayor, School Boards, even Judges."

"Do you think there are any Czech speakers here?"

I shouted "Do Prdele" and "Vsechni kandidati jsou hajzele!"

No response.

"I think we're it, Petr."

"Oh, that is good funny!"

Next was City Council Candidate Paul Broadway. Of all the candidates who won't advance to the November run-off, he looked happiest.

"I love it!" Pointing at the Bidwell contingent, "See, there's space hippies smoking joints mingling with ultra rich dudes sipping cocktails. Nasty and nice mix together and there's no fights."

I pointed to the bottle of beer he was holding."

"I'm a bit surprised they allow glass bottles here. There sure is a lot of security." True enough. Uniformed officers clustered at the entrance, while a few large men with wires hanging out their ears circulated in the crowd.

"So how about your race?"

"Well, I was the only Libertarian who wasn't endorsed by my own party. I called the Chairman a liar, and he threw me under the skateboard!"

By 9:30, Sanders was already declaring victory. He and his mass of sign waving supporters moved in a circle around the perifery of the hall, going from KUSI to KOGO to KFMB to grin about his win. All I could see was the back of his head.

I didn't see Steve Francis at all, so I wandered over to the Grant where I expected the wealthy candidate for Mayor to put on a good party. But all the food was already gone, and there were no replenishments in sight. I asked the bartender how much a beer cost. $7 for domestic, $8 for imports. The Francis room was subdued, depression sinking in. I didn't stay long.

Back at Election Central, I ran into former SDSU Poli-Sci Professor Jack Soule. What does he think of the scene? "A bunch of wonderful weirdos. They all come out on election night. It's great!"

Just then, District 3 candidates Todd Gloria and Stephen Whitburn begin dualing chants.

"Gloria! Gloria! Gloria!"

"We want Whitburn! We want Whitburn!

I'm hoping for them to mix it up, but there's no shoving, no pushing, no screaming matches. The only competition is to see who can put their signs in front of the cameras. Time to go looking for some excitement.

I find it over at the Sanders suite at the Westgate. These people are ecstatic. They're guy has won in the primary. There's the main area, where I can avail myself of brocolli, jicama, cauliflower and zuchini. The beer is only $5.50 for domestic. Behind another set of doors, I see cameras lined up. In front of each camera stands a talking heads. 11 p.m. they all start talking. Sanders has won the election, even though only 35% of the votes are counted. Francis will sleep on it and have an announcement in the morning.

Back at Golden Hall, I spy Tony Krvaric. He's had a good night. Goldsmith is in front for City Attorney, and Sanders has got another four years. A rude young man badgers the balding Republican Party Chairman.

"When did you stop selling bootlegged software?"

Krvaric gets red in the face and stalks away. Minutes later, he's huddled with Michael McSweeney pointing at the troublemaker, glaring daggers.

At 11:30, Scott Peters signs make an appearance in the hall. I assume Peters accompanied the signs, but couldn't see him. He came in 3rd for City Attorney, so it looks like our Council President will be spending more time with his family. Still, his supporters chanted and cheered, again waving their placards for the cameras.

Then it all just deflated. By 11:45 the hall was emptying out, and by midnight only a handful of die hards were still in the room. The cameras were packed up, the microphones switched off. Less than fifty percent of the votes were tallied, but all the races were declared, and Golden Hall reverted to a place for prayer meetings and elementary school dance shows.

Until the first Tuesday in November, when hopefully the party platters will be full and the drinks free.

JOSH ADDS: I'll see ya there, Fred. If I come back from NYC and you're sitting at my desk...you're getting a butt whoopin'