Back when I was a millennial, I adored Bernie Sanders. (I am still technically a millennial, but not in the sense most people mean it—“enthusiastic but naive early-20s person onto whom I can project all of my neuroses.”) But almost exactly nine years ago, in 2007, I was that person—an intern, standing enthralled in the back of a Chinese restaurant as Bernie Sanders ate green beans straight from the buffet and said f-words while Hillary Clinton delivered canned lines in a speech celebrating Senator Charles Schumer’s book about selling Democratic policies to Middle America. The night was a little preview of the themes of the 2016 Democratic primary—celebrity vs authenticity, insiders vs outsiders—inside a place called Hunan Dynasty on Capitol Hill. I’d sort of forgotten about it until a few days ago, even though it involved one of the most embarrassing moments of my life, when I chased Hillary Clinton down the stairs.

When I read elaborate hypotheses about why the kids love Bernie so much, I tend to conclude everyone is overthinking this. Public polls show young people are more liberal, and so naturally, they like the more liberal candidate. Simple. The attacks on Clinton’s lack of “authenticity” always seemed to be possibly sexist and definitely missing the point. But I have to admit it’s not actually that simple, after looking back at my somewhat embarrassing contemporaneous Gchats from 2007.

My parents can look through old photos and see their young faces, but I’ve had Gmail since college, which means I can look through old Gchats and see inside my young brain. It’s weird. “What’s Bernie Sanders like?” my college ex-boyfriend asked. I replied, “I LOVE HIM he’s sooo funny <3 he dropped like soooo many f bombs.” I emailed another friend from college: “i talked forever to bernie sanders, who is so freakin’ cool. … If I ever get called to answer one of those ‘Which candidate would you rather have a beer with?’ poll questions, I am definitely saying Bernie Sanders.” I emailed my mom: “He was really great, very ‘real’ ... actually seemed to care about what was happening, about doing good things with government power.” I emailed my aunt in Portland: “The best was Bernie Sanders though. I liked him instantly, even though he gently mocked me for asking about Hillary.”

I was at the time a New Republic intern, making $7 an hour, and an editor recommended me to another magazine to cover the party, thrown by Clinton to celebrate Schumer’s Positively American. I was to write 500 words about Schumer and Clinton, who had recently announced her presidential exploratory committee. This was it, I thought, my chance to convince some publication to hire me for a living wage. I put on a houndstooth pencil skirt my mom made me, took the Metro to Capitol Hill, walked into the restaurant, and then had no idea what to do. I got a drink and stood awkwardly in the back of the room. I was near a tall white-haired man and a shorter man, and I realized the first guy was Bernie Sanders. I looked at them, and they looked at me. And I stood still some more. Then, slowly, I inched closer and closer until I was in their conversation, without really coming up with a smooth “Please talk to me now” opening line. I have now honed this as a reporting technique: wallow in an awkward silence until somebody says something interesting to fill it.

I talked to them a long time before I realized the second guy was a congressman. (Gmail archives have helped me remember what happened.) Later googling revealed he was New York representative Jerry Nadler. Democrats had just won a majority in the House for the first time since 1994, and Nadler was on the judiciary committee; he was telling Sanders about all the cool investigating they were going to do into the Bush administration. I probably could have gotten some sick scoops if I hadn’t been an idiot who didn’t know anything about anything.