It was a long and winding road last night, but I finally made it to The Liffey, directly across from the Xcel Center, which you can almost see through the metal pens, caging, and security equipment barricading downtown St. Paul.

Democracy. It's a beautiful thing.

Saturday night's media bash on the river was light on national notables and very heavy on the usual suspects, which is to say hungry, thirsty wretches like us drawn, like moths to flame, by the promise of free food and booze. (Nice touch on the part of the city to dispense beer (well, Budweiser) in plastic bottles. It was the media after all, and brawling with the usual broken glass could present legal problems.

The "get" of the night, as far as my collection of cronies could tell, was MinnPost's David Brauer stalking Star Tribune editrix, Nancy Barnes—the executive of a major first amendment-driven local business—who deigns not return phone calls or e-mails from, you know, reporters . . . much like the dozens she employs. It was a game for Brauer to see if he could both catch and engage Barnes, and as he tells it, once he cornered her, their "interaction" lasted barely ninety seconds before she seized on . . . "oh, look . . ." and "had to go."

Mayor Rybak and wife Meg, looking fresh there at the start—despite having spent a week in Denver—were both shaking theirs heads over McCain's Sarah Palin pick. "I don't see what it does for him," said R.T.

Local Republican muckety-mucks in the crowd were all saying that Pawlenty and his people feel used by McCain's operators. Those who knew anything about Palin—two out a dozen—regard her as "another Michele Bachmann . . . " and fear what two months on the stump will do to an act McCain has only just met. (And those were the Republicans.)

My favorite interaction was with four kind of geeky kids . . . Young Republicans from Indiana State . . . in town (for the first time) "working for FoxNews." Really? Doing what? "Just helping with stuff." We exchanged cards. If I catch these guys ringside at Deja Vu Wednesday night waggling $20 bills in their teeth . . .

Yesterday's first act was the inter-party love feast/media party at Sam and Sylvia Kaplans. The Twin Cities' first family for fundraising and political schmoozing. Amy Klobuchar's "brief" remarks, although funny, went on long enough for her co-guest of honor, Jim "The Rammer" Ramstad, to get off a line about how she reminds him of Hubert Humphrey. As Larry King would say, whatever happened to Republicans like Ramstad?

The event was "off the record," which in this context means it's bad form to report dialogue and displays that might offend anyone. But I did have a chance to get my concerns about Al Franken across to his new manager (ten weeks ago) Stephanie Schriock, the woman who guided Jon Tester's senate campaign in Montana in '06. As you might expect, she believes Al is much better at the retail political game than he was months ago (His problem is delivering the consistent person-to-person "charm" required of any successful pol.), and she says she likes the way the polls are trending. Nothing earthshaking there, but I still didn't detect a formula for rebutting the next round of "Al Franken pornographer" ads the Coleman team will be cooking up.

Self-exiled MPR diva, Katherine Lanpher, was discovered holding court with the bard of Minnesota, Bill Holm, covering the Republicans for our sister publication Law & Politics. Fox . . . hen house. La Lanpher (another crony from PiPress days) was resplendent. (I'd have to say that even if she wasn't . ..  but she was. Really.)

Congressman Tim Walz stepped in while my former radio combatant, Sarah Janecek, and I were reminiscing about the scar tissue we picked up in our seven months working for Clear Channel. I told Walz it's become a cliche now when every Democrat big thinker declares the secret to beating Michele Bachmann is to find another "football coach like Tim Walz," like the football thing is what'll turn the Sixth District away from a delusional dim wit. Walz told the story of out campaigning a couple years ago when some heckler demanded to know what a "football coach" would ever know about China trade policy . . . and Walz, who lived in China for awhile, answered him . . . in Chinese.

KARE news director Tom Lindner, linked in to the NBC apparatus, seemed eerily sanguine about the resources being spent on RNC coverage this week. He seemed pretty amused at the MSNBC family soap opera in Denver but could not promise any on-set hair pulling this week, especially since Keith Olbermann has "decided" to handle his duties from New York. Lindner was relieved to hear the cops had busted the big urine depository. Few TV stations have the budgets any more for large-scale dry-cleaning.

After a stop at a lavish backyard party in south Minneapolis hosted by an obviously very well-paid Star Tribune reporter—who his boss, Ms. Barnes, probably would not like consorting with a low-rent blogger like me—it was into the maximum security chain link "security" colony formerly known as St. Paul. The twenty-minute walk after parking to The Liffey wasn't bad, considering the pleasant weather, but the sight of (serious, not farcical) McCain paraphernalia in the windows of Maharajah's . . . uh . . . paraphernalia emporium was disquieting. Judging by the wall-to-wall Republican jokes (George W. and Dick bailing on Minnesota to sandbag in Louisiana . . . to McCain's enormous relief), I think there's still a juicy market for anything that rips the oligarchs.

All the faction at The Liffey was upstairs, outside. The Strib's Neal Justin was holding court for two CNN publicists. The ladies were enthralled. Justin remains convinced McCain will win. He'll owe me $20 if that happens.

With the Strib and every TV station descending on this afternoon's protest march—hoping like NASCAR fans for some kind of spectacular pileup—Sunday was night for mainly girding the loins and, with the Republicans madly back-filling their appalling performance during Katrina, rejiggering schedules by the hour, reassessing what's left to cover.

More later . . . from The Liffey.