Cosmos all around

This weekend I unwittingly found myself in the middle of a "Sex and the City" party. It was co-sponsored by Moet Champagne and took place at Departure, the bar on the roof of The Nines in downtown Portland. It's one of those places where all the chicks look like models and all the dudes look like douche bags. It reminded me of those L.A. parties, only the joke was on everyone, because we weren't in L.A. We were in Portland.

There was a costume contest, so there were Carries as far as the eye could see, most of them in tutus, or whatever you call the thing that looks like a tutu that Sarah Jessica Parker wears in that famous opening sequence. Some of the douches were dressed as Mr. Big. In other words, they were wearing suits.

As I escaped the party, I found myself crammed into the back corner of an elevator filled with about 12 Carries, ranging in age from about 21 to 35, all yapping about stuff you'd imagine women dressed as Carrie would yap about. It was like the scene in being John Malkovich where John Malkovich goes into his own head only less awesome.

Hitting a bar down the street, I ran into a fellow escapee.

"What's the matter, you didn't want to hang with all the Carries?" a friend asked him.

"I made out with a couple of them before I left," the escapee said.

"Are you sure they weren't Samanthas?" I asked. (Audience laughs, applause.)

"I was Samantha," he said. (Audience laughs, applause.)

Freeze frame.