On my way back to California, from covering the Vodka Cup competition in Finland, I changed planes at JFK in New York. Joie (also an LA resident on the trip) and I were at the United stand, checking in, when a glamorous creature wafted up to the counter, inquiring if there were any seats left in First Class because she had a friend who wanted to join her on the flight to LA. (Of course there were seats - who would say "no" to a Trump?)

Joie and I had both woken up at 4-something, that morning, in Lapland. We had endured a 2-hour busride, a 2-hour flight from a tiny airport near the Arctic Circle to Helsinki, and an 8-hour flight from Helsinki to NY. Speaking for myself, I was exhausted, stinky (wearing the same three pairs of socks for about 4 days, the same 2 pairs of long johns, the same cuddly, warm turtleneck and my now stained-and-filthy pants. I had bags under my eyes, the beginnings of a cough and, of course, my 2-inch roots.

Ivanka, a vision of all that a socialite should be, wore elegant, tight-fitting leather boots, a fabulous emerald green coat, had perfect make-up and hair, and a dazzling whiter-than-nature-can-create smile. To make matters worse, it was impossible to "hate her because she's beautiful" (and wealthy) due to her impeccable manners, friendly attitude and non-Diva demeanor. And, trust me, at that moment, feeling like an absolute toad next to this vision of everything Manhattan and Hollywood, rolled into one (who surely had enjoyed a full night's sleep, to boot) I wanted to hate her.

While so many celebs are spoiled, taudry and wreak of unbearably rotted personalities, Ivanka says "please" and "thank you," and treats people (like the United check-in lady) with respect. She happened to be next to me again, when boarding the plane, and she made jokes with other passengers in line and chatted merrily with the "mystery friend" on the phone, for whom she bought the ticket, asking if he/she would make the flight on time.

If I were a gossip columnist, I may have snapped a pic with my cell or made a point of spying on the poor lass, gathering any juicy detail with which to smear her name in cyberspace. However, I am a cocktail, travel, lifestyle journalist, and luckily such acts of desperation do not fall into my job-description.

What I do wish to share about Ms. Trump, as it relates to cocktails, is that her pops has created their own brand of vodka. I first heard about Trump Vodka last year, and made a vain attempt at getting a sample and more info, in order to blog about it on The Liquid Muse. However, this seems like the perfect opportunity to bring up the subject, and ask if any of you in Sipsterland have tasted it? If so, please comment below. I'd love to hear what you think of it...

And, in the meantime, I'm happy to report my newfound respect for Daddy's Little Girl. I might even start watching The Apprentice again...