Four Bottles of Malbec Will Make Me Reconsider Things

So can I take back what I said about PT?
A couple of bottles of wine , stories of gasoline explosions, and a discussion about how crabs have sex (spurred by the crab cake hors d'oerves that were more ball than cake, hence...), and I started to edit my first impressions.
(Another fall intern, Amy, explained to us the mystery of crab sex: external fertilization, much like the sea spiders she wrote her doctoral thesis on. Turns out, the male sea spider goes around collecting eggs from a harem of females, fertilizes them, and impregnates himself with them. Matt (Organizer of Interns) pointed out that the sea spider is the opposite of the Easter Bunny.)
So, we went to a wine bar after work yesterday, and it seems that they're actually funny, smart people--intellectual but warmer than I thought. Matt regaled us with stories of Burning Man (including the rampant Shirtcockers (older gentlemen walking around with a shirt and no pants) and the improvised canon that non-Shirtcockers used to shoot pants at them), while the owner of the magazine, Joe, told us about a lesser-known burning man--a guy who incurred 3rd-degree burns after lighting a massive pile of kindling with gasoline at a child's birthday party. Joe witnessed the event, and I'm sure it was a horrible, horrible thing to experience, but it sort of made me giggle.
It was more at Joe himself. I saw him around the office on Tuesday--he'd emerge from his corner office to scan the bookshelf or say hi to the employees in what I thought was a faux British accent. I thought maybe he was another intern? I don't know, but not the owner. But he really is British. And everything we write and produce is his property. He wears jeans and t-shirts and has this fantastic, shiny, long, luxurious hair. It's gorgeous.
The day itself had its merits too. The 8-hours of researching new topics was broken up by a mid-morning meeting (this time less tense), beginning the Harry Potter series during my lunchbreak in Madison Square, and opening packages of books that publishers send to the magazine in hopes of them getting reviewed. Maybe 10% of the books ended in the pile to consider reviewing, the sex books the editors took for themselves, and rest scoffed at (reasonably so--The Planets of Love (astrology), 8 Habits of Highly Effective PowerPoint Presentations, I'm Not Shy Anymore, etc.).
And the other intern I'll be working with on Tuesdays and Thursdays, Meredith, is a gem--so nice and funny. Meredith went to MIT, studied linguistics and cognitive neuroscience, spent a few years at Rice researching speech production in stroke victims, and is now at NYU's science writing program. I told her I was thinking of applying to NYU for grad school, so she offered to bring me to a class.
Also, very importantly, the summer interns told me that we'd be writing a bunch and that spending the day researching is atypical.
So, for the aforementioned reasons, I think the PT internship has enormously more potential than I thought.
I will end on another, even more insane, TPWHAEITUS moment:
At the wine bar, a couple sat down at an adjacent table. The guy noticed my bag (this big orange canvas thing with a giraffe on it) and said, "Hey, nice bag. You've got great taste." I said, "Thanks!" Then he pointed to the girl and said, "She designed it."
What do you say to the designer of your bag? Thanks? Good job?