On with the motley, down to Penn Station, Amtrak (half an hour late, of

course) to DC, taxi to the show. Lovely event: pols, media folk, masses of

good-looking women — one of the great perks of being on the political Right

(cf. Hillary Clinton, Madeleine Albright, Barbra Streisand, etc., etc., etc.)

I was sitting with a v. nice company, including Mark Steyn, “the William

Shakespeare of opinion journalism” (R. Lowry). WFB splendid, though

elegiac. I choked up a bit. They showed a fine 50th-anniversary movie,

narrated by Rush Limbaugh. Father Rutler was his wry, eloquent best. Then

dancing & booze. I slipped away early, but not early enough to catch last

train back to NYC. Sat in Union Station till first train of morning at 3

am, doing book reviews on laptop. Union Station in the wee hours is…

quiet, very quiet. Slept on train going back to NYC. Drove home to Long

Island. 21 hours in a tux — I belong to the old school that disdains suit

bags, changes, etc. Nothing wrong with traveling in a tux. I was

DEFINITELY the best-dressed person in Union Station at 2:30 am Friday morning.