We drank wine and nibbled Michael's tasty burgers with spicy sweet onion chutney and lemon crème fraîche, Ame's frittata, and David's boozy bourbon cake. Thanks to Ame's DVR, guests migrated leisurely from one room to the other without worrying about missing the beginning -- Lloyd wouldn't press play until everyone had shuffled into the room.
For the next hour, the TV was like a board game -- rather than isolating or dividing, it brought everyone together. It's interesting how invested people are in the outcome of a show when money is riding on the winner and loser. Before I met him, David had hosted Iron Chef parties, for which he devised a complicated drinking game. Now he could see that the major flaw had been to not include gambling.
After Heidi Klum told the worst designer to go home, Chris was declared the winner of the jackpot for correctly predicting both the show's winner and loser. Eventually, grumblings about Chris always winning and speculation about next week's show tapered off, and the crowd dissipated. Already I was thinking about the week to come -- who will win or lose, which outfits will amaze or horrify, and most important, which wine will I bring?