The delegate dance is over, and proceeded without incident. As seventeen-year-old DJ Menos dropped hot beats and the crowd danced "wildly", one could only imagine the thoughts going through the artist's head: "Who are these nerds, and why do they demand House when I give them sweet, sweet Reggaeton?"
It's a question I have no answer to. All I can say is, towards the end of the party, I sat sipping water and watching Magic Bullet infomercials at the bar, while the delegate in the tie-dye shirt underwent a Techno-induced seizure just a few feet away. Your Under-Secretary Generals for Committees danced the night away, your SecGen continued to be adorable yet deadly, and your USG-A plugged away back at the hotel, typing up the awards certificates that you will put above your beds tonight.
But our thoughts should lie with another Secretariat member. Your Chief of Staff, Emily "Gringa" Brown. It was she who chased DJ Menos around town and through alleyways, she who coaxed a contract out of the wife of the bootleg security guard, she who pacified University Admin by directing the conversation towards London-based fashion.
And it was Emily Brown who sat next to the bartender last night. As he continued to buy her draaaanks, Ms. Brown shed her inhibitions to reveal a previously hidden talent--the smooth insertion of Spanish words into everyday phrases. "DJ Menos has to learn to be a hombre de negocios", she pointed out. A few minutes later, she informed us that "The abogados suck, man". Lalo's manager Juan was most appreciative, and invited us back to his restaurant for the following year. Thank you, Emily Brown. Thank you.
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