12:30 P.M. It is gorgeous out today. Blue sky, fluffy white clouds, pleasant breezes; shirtsleeve weather. Midday metro was uncrowded. Leaving the Capital South station, I scarfed a turkey sandwich and walked past congressional office buildings. Got my first glimpse of the Capital to my right between them. At Rayburn, through the security, up to the third floor. The Members Only elevator is broken and our elected ride with the rest of us.

The halls are quiet during lunch hour. You can hear echoes. The clack of heels like golf balls on pavement.

There's a line at the hearing room. The men are in uniform, something vaguely Brooks Brothers or a very conservative Armani. Blackberries everywhere, some juggling mobiles. Despite the air conditioning and the cool weather, everyone is sweating, flushed cheeks like red apples.

Folks don't carry much, those who do are from out of town, with no office to leave their stuff. A few read Communications Daily or printouts of the subcommittee's home page, updated a few minutes ago.

There are line holders, assuring that those who pay will get in. There's a line holder culture. Etiquette (one holder for one person, taking turns to go to the bathroom or to lunch). Fashion: cross Taxi Driver with Bike Messenger Chic.

1:00 PM. As one lobbyist puts it, "the usual crowd is here." The same folks. Lots of Hi, Howaryah, Seeyahsoon. And you can see pecking orders; those with access to congresspeople, some escorting witnesses, others who used to be insiders; relationships are currency here, like in junior high.

I run into a NATOA executive; her husband uses Skype.

1:30 PM. Starting half an hour late, they let us in. People stake out chairs like they're lining up for a rock concert. Then they mingle. Schmooze is a better word. They'd look more at home holding cocktails. It's slick. Mostly lobbyists, some guys with cufflinks that could have paid for a junket. The clubbiness of it all is typical. As is the insincerity with which most of the lawyers in the room advocate for their clients. There are more delays, so more shop talk: who's working at which firm, which riff is catching on.

2:20 PM. The sub-committee chairman, Upton, starts. Seven witnesses testify, five minutes each. A break for a vote. Questioning begins.

3:12 PM. First and only mention of Skype, I think by David Quam.

4:00 PM. All done. I go outside to breathe the fresh air and get the stink of aggrandizement off.

I walk uphill a block to the Capital. Watch people getting their pictures taken on the steps. Folks with Faith in Democracy. Sitting on a park bench, I'm thinking it was a good two hours for the congressmen. A few learned what local government had to say (let us do our jobs, you can't do it for us, taxation for right-of-way matters). Some even had a chance to get answers that justified how they're already planning to vote.

Everyone in that room was doing their job. But there was something about the straightforward witnesses being prepped and accompanied K Street lobbyists for big industry that makes me wince.

Where's that Starbucks? I need something bitter to wash out my mouth.