The reality of the situation sets in:

24 hours later, I realize that yes, I did get “handsy” with General Colin Powell.

Hey, he smiled through the conversation. Further proof that the man is the only decent aspect of the Bush administration; he let me paw at him. Funny, when I was speaking with him, I kept on thinking about how I could cry in a second thinking about how they threw him under the bus, pushing him into the UN General Assembly to make the case for war on Iraq, when they knew they fed him lies. Now, in the harsh light of cocktail hour, I could cry thinking about the fact that if I am remembered by Mr. Powell, it will be as the chatty gay who got handsy on him in the basement of the Crosby Hotel. Sigh.