THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST Oprah, Obamas (inset)

I ended up scoring a credential to hear Barack Obama's nomination acceptance speech, which was inspiring, electric, and very presidential, but I almost hit the deck and belly-crawled to safety when the first fireworks exploded afterward. I was certain the stadium was under a surprise attack. My nerves were so rattled that I decided I needed yet another free drink right then and there. I'd gotten wind of a private party in one of the clubhouses in the recesses of the stadium, to which the Obamas were rumored to be attending, among other celebrities. Not to be deterred by the small fact that we were not invited, my friends—a lobbyist and a political strategist—and I came up with a better plan.

"Who wants to be the member of Congress?" asked Friend One.

"I will!" I replied instantly.

He dug around in his bag and procured an ornate University of Montana alumni pin, and fastened it to my wrap. Because every politico I'd seen this week was wearing a pin of some kind or another, I immediately assumed an aura of officialdom. We approached the security guards at the entrance to the party, Friend One with his hand on my lower back, as though he was my security detail, Friend Two leading the way and speaking on my behalf.

I was so giddy over our little prank—and so busy basking in my newfound importance—at first, I didn't even notice that I was brushing shoulders with Oprah"We have Congresswoman Shear here from Buffalo, New York," he informed the burly guard, who immediately ushered us inside and escorted us directly to the bar, pushing through and crowding out other revelers so I had unfettered access to the bartender. I was so giddy over our little prank—and so busy basking in my newfound importance—at first, I didn't even notice that I was brushing shoulders with Oprah. But there she was. Me, too. Us. Practically hanging out. I'd read that Oprah had only recently flown in to Denver, but she looked refreshed and lovely and happy, and I never would have guessed how long her hair is in real life.

And then Oprah disappeared, quite possibly to hang with her pals the Obamas, as the nominee and his wife soon exited the same door Oprah had, only minutes before, entered. Barack and Michelle came out and mixed easily with the crowd. Barack eventually delivered a sweet, demure speech, perfect for an intimate setting peopled with us VIPs. Then they too were gone.

After we'd had a few drinks, it was time to head back downtown. Problem was, unofficial vehicles were still not allowed anywhere near the stadium. But by then I'd learned that Congresswoman Shear does not schlep the mile necessary to get to where the cabs, cars, and buses were. Congresswoman Shear's spokesman gets the Secret freaking Service to drive us in a golf cart. Riding along, though, I started to get nervous. It is, after all, a felony in some cases to impersonate a member of Congress (in the interest if avoiding jail time, I should probably avoid a discussion about how ridiculously easy it was to perpetuate this fraud. Isn't this a homeland security issue?).

While we bumped along the closed-off and deserted I-25 freeway, our driver sitting in deferential silence, Friend Two turned to me and said, "Congresswoman, remember, tomorrow we need to go over your legislative agenda before the press briefing."

"No," I countered, deciding right then and there that I would run for office sooner rather than later. "First priority tomorrow is trying to arrange that lunch with Senator Clinton's team. Then I want to go over the foreign policy talking points..."

"Nice to meet you, Congresswoman," our driver said a few minutes later as we exited and Friend Two led us purposefully toward a black town car that miraculously sat idling next to the bus we were planning to jump on.

I smiled magnanimously. What can I say? A dozen years of Catholic school might be a black mark on my record, but it made me a good liar and an even better politician.