Senators are at their best when you keep them up for about 20 hours, as they were for the all-night Iraq debate on July 17–18. Staffers may not agree; they were the ones, after all, scurrying about the Capitol with pillows and blankets for their bosses. Dozens of these aides, many of whom are highly educated policy specialists, were reduced to human alarm clocks for their out-of-sorts senators. But from our perspective, it was comedy gold:


The first casualty was Sen. Ben Nelson (D-Neb.). We suspect that the Democratic leadership might not feel so bad that Nelson missed the viewing of his appearance on Comedy Central’s “Colbert Report” that his staff set up. The show was set to air at 8:30 p.m. at Bobby Van’s Steakhouse, and if lefties saw Nelson chatting with friends, colleagues and a couple of reporters, they might have been quite pleased to see the most frequent breaker of Democratic ranks run out of the restaurant to vote, just before his moment of glory on the “Report.”

As his BlackBerry buzzed, Nelson headed out of the restaurant, announcing: “Don’t let anybody leave!” Democratic staff insisted that the conflict couldn’t have been their doing, as members were told early in the afternoonabout the 8:30 vote.



Sen. Charles Schumer (N.Y.) looked like he was having the time of his life. Both in person and on C-SPAN, the Senate Democrats’ chief fundraiser was clearly suffering from no lack of energy or joie de vivre — in stark contrast to his sleepwalking colleagues. Schumer giddily recounted how he knew that an all-night session on Iraq would get the attention of voters: “I called my mother this morning — she’s 79 years old. She said, ‘So you’re going to stay up late tonight.’ That showed me that the American people are paying attention,” Schumer said.

Schumer said he was quite comfortable spending some extra time in the Capitol building. As a resident of the “Democratic group house,” which he shares with Majority Whip Dick Durbin of Illinois and Reps. George Miller (D-Calif.) and Bill Delahunt (D-Mass.), Schumer said Tuesday night was luxurious compared to most of his evenings. “This place has air conditioning — my place doesn’t,” he said.



The always fastidiously dressed Sen. Orrin Hatch (R-Utah) was barely recognizable in khakis and a sport coat. “I break down every once in a while,” Hatch said around midnight, referring to his casual attire. Was he upset to be at work still? “It’s no big deal — I used to cause these,” Hatch said with a chuckle. Indeed, the last time Congress talked through the night was two years ago, when Hatch, then chairman of the Judiciary Committee, helped oversee a similar session to protest Democrats’ blocking of the confirmation of judges.



Living one hour from the Capitol building has always been a perk of representing Maryland for Democratic Sen. Barbara Mikulski — until Tuesday night. The smallest member of the Senate was stuck in her office for the talk-a-thon with little in the way of entertainment. In contemplating what to do with her free time, Mikulski joked that this could be the perfect moment for one of those informative historical chats with constitutional enthusiast Sen. Robert Byrd (D-W.Va.) “Maybe I’ll call him up,” Mikulski joked. The conversation, she thought, could start like this: “You be Marbury, I’ll be Madison.”

Kerry’s Freudian slip: subtle swipe or honest mistake?

Sen. Jim DeMint (R-S.C.) is one politician who has not taken a single step to distance himself from a fellow member of the GOP class of 2004, David Vitter of Louisiana.

Since revelations broke of Vitter’s involvement with a Washington prostitution ring, DeMint has said he has stayed in contact with Vitter by e-mail, and tried to explain the Louisianan’s behavior by saying that “this is a very lonely and isolating place.”

So when Sen. John Kerry (D-Mass.) responded to DeMint’s Tuesday objection to consideration of his small-business bill, did Kerry simply suffer from some momentary confusion that caused him to address DeMint as Vitter? “I appreciate Senator Vitter — Senator DeMint, his need to object …” Kerry began.

Technically, Senate rules would dictate that Kerry only refer to DeMint as “the gentleman from South Carolina,” but Kerry spokesman Vincent Morris insisted that to read anything nefarious into his boss’s miscue would be unfair.

“It was the result of near-exhaustion from trying to undo the damage of a disastrous Bush foreign policy,” Morris quipped.
 

In the politics game, there are more hellos than goodbyes