Watching the Democratic National Convention this week — or more precisely, pausing on the convention briefly as I channel-surf in search of more appealing fare — has reminded of something I learned 12 years ago: Political conventions, like baseball games, are best enjoyed in person. Something essential is lost on TV.

I attended the 1996 Democratic convention in Chicago (and I should hasten to say that I went as a reporter, not as a party member). I had a blast. The convention was equal parts circus, spectacle, rave, civil disturbance, pub crawl, and networking orgy. In the five days of the convention, I saw about three hours of actual, serious political work get done. Of the remaining 80 or so hours of non-sleeping time, the primary topics of business seemed to be (1) where to eat, (2) how to score tickets to the best parties, and (3) which celebrities had been spotted at the convention or the many related events.

My job was to ignore the politics and write about what went on otherwise. See (1), (2) and (3) above.

My first story, for instance, described the perfectly amazing private party thrown exclusively for journalists at Navy Pier, the lakefront tourist site that had been closed the first evening of the convention so it could be turned into a private drinkatorium for the thousands of reporters who’d come to cover the proceedings. This was notable, of course, because reporters usually get the same warm welcome accorded to, say, process servers and repo men. It was a rare treat to be, for once, the person for whom the velvet rope is unhooked.

At another party later in the week, I watched in fascination as a trio of celebrities made carefully orchestrated entrances. One of them was Bella Abzug, a bona fide political legend who arrived in a wheelchair — a disconcerting sight for the woman once known as “Hurricane Bella.” The other two were classic B-listers: Bianca Jagger, notorious party girl and former wife of Mick Jagger, and one of the lesser Baldwin brothers. (Apart from Alec, I’ve never been able to keep them straight so I don’t recall exactly which one it was.)

I also wrote a piece about how 90 percent of the delegates effortlessly tune out whatever is happening onstage during the convention. Even when the big-name speakers made their prime time speeches, most delegates milled around chatting with one another, comparing dinner and party notes. I recall that one frustrated speaker halted his prepared remarks to say something like, “Hey, I’m talkin’ up here!” — but was roundly ignored.

Remember that as you watch the conventions this year. The people there probably aren’t paying attention to the official proceedings, because the most interesting stuff is elsewhere. So why are you sitting through the dull stuff?