A shoe-in for party of the year: everybody is somebody at the Maxim Super Bowl bash.(My Turn: Young and Restless)

It's Super Bowl weekend, the biggest party weekend of the year. I'm getting ready for the one that's being hyped as not just a party but an "experience"--the Maxim bash. More than 10,000 people have requested invitations; only about 1,800 will be allowed in.

I've primped myself into A-list shape and I'm ready to walk out the door--and I realize I only have one shoe. Specifically, my left shoe. I packed three other pairs of black shoes, but none of them goes with this particular dress. So I do what any other Maxim partygoer would do in a pinch--I hit the local Meijer at 10 p.m. and buy a replacement pair for $19.99. A bumpy start to the night, but I'm sure Jessica Alba is totally doing the same thing right now.

I arrive downtown in my hot new shoes and go to the first checkpoint, a parking garage about a block from the party. A guy standing outside warns me that many people are being turned away: "My friends got in, and I didn't."

I look at him. "They just left you?"

He shrugs. "It's the Maxim party."

I head down the street and join the line leading into the party. The line is not moving. At all. Did I mention that it's snowing? Some of us are going with it ("It doesn't matter if you're black or white because right now, we're all blue!" bellows one equal opportunist); others, not so much. A fight almost breaks out, and the guy behind me tries to shove his way to the front of the line. "I've got a wristband!" he yells. "We all have wristbands," someone counters. Wristband Guy continues: "But I'm a major league baseball player!"

Sure enough, it's Michael Young--or at least someone who looks exactly like him. Unfortunately, even pro baseball players who hit .331 last season don't get special treatment in line. Finally, just before midnight, we both get in.