October 2004 brings many things to mind for people, particularly those who live in the Northeast. Glee. Disbelief. Tears. Miracles. Curses. Coffee. Bleary eyes. Relief. Misery–if you like pinstripes. Coffee.

(Yes, I mentioned coffee twice. Those were late nights and early mornings.)

In addition to the obvious things that come to mind–duck boats, deadlines, and comebacks–October 2004 brings two things to mind . I think of the way the crowd with whom I watched Game 4 groaned when the second out was recorded in the bottom of the ninth inning–victory was so close, but we’d all been trained to expect the worst in such situations. We all reacted in the exact same way.

The other thing that comes to mind, however, has nothing to do with baseball. I think of Crossfire.

Back in October, while the Yankees were confidently dismantling the Sox in the ALCS, Beth and I were in DC for a long weekend. It had been my first trip to Washington since moving back to Vermont and we were each catching up with our various Washington connections. It was at the end of a Capitol tour–when I was busy laughing over how much I remembered from my own Cap tour-giving days–that someone approached us with a question:

Would we be interested in two complimentary tickets to that afternoon’s taping of Crossfire?

Let’s stop and pause for laughter. Crossfire. During vacation.

Needless to say, we declined. We enjoyed most of the rest of the visit, if you ignore the debacle that was watching the Sox hit rock bottom during a night out at the Brass Monkey, and then we returned to Vermont.

That’s when we heard about the episode of Crossfire we’d missed. And the guest that day. The same guest who was on the cover of Rolling Stone I’d brought with me on the trip. The man who rivaled Josh Lyman for top status as my intellectual crush.

My reaction to this realization, as you’d understand, was displeasure. Epic, FML, why-do-the-fates-hate-me displeasure.

Ever since, I’ve tried to make things right again, to get my Jon Stewart moment.

Five and a half years–and two Red Sox world championships–later, my moment arrived. After an early morning, a bus ride, dashes through the rain, and a few hours spent standing in line across from a furniture shop in Hell’s Kitchen, I got my Jon Stewart fix.

It was worth the wait.

To understand just how sensational the experience of attending a Daily Show with Jon Stewart taping was, look over my description of the day again. T ride, bus ride, walking in rain, subway ride, more walking, hours standing in line, 35 minutes of Daily Show taping, immediate post-taping walk to Times Square, subway ride, bus ride, T ride home. I left my apartment sometime around 6 am and returned around 1 am. All for 35 minutes of sharp and savvy filming. And it was worth every moment of travel. And while the talent performing was impressive enough, it was seeing Stewart watch the news that was my favorite part. He was into every single moment, whether the camera was on him or not.

And he was on, from the moment he bounded out onto the set for the pre-show Q&A. Sharp, witty, brilliantly sarcastic, and just what I’d hoped he would be.

Five a half years after the Crossfire Incident of 2004, much has changed in my life. And yet I’m still the girl who’s giggling over the anchor of a fake news show. And he’s still duking it out with Josh Lyman for top spot on my intellectual crush list.

Some things don’t change. Nor would I want them to.

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