The Foreign Service Journal, July-August 2006

left, the Presidential Palace,” he announced. “Conveniently located,” he added with a note of hope. “I guess ...” the congressman started. “Waylon, don’t even think it!” Mandi hissed. The temperature continued to climb. When the car pulled to a stop in front of the residence, Wigenrath tugged frantically at the door. “A little jiggle always needed,” the ambassador said, opening the door. Rep. Wigen- rath burst out of the car, red-faced and gasping, dripping sweat. Mandi’s hair stood straight out in all directions and her makeup had run down her face, giving her the appearance of a wet rac- coon that had been electrocuted. “Perhaps after freshening up ...” Amb. Vodel ventured. “We are not leaving this house until we can fly out of this godforsaken country!” Mandi waved her finger up at the ambassador. “Now if you would just get us some emu oil.” A fter the Wigenraths and their pilots were settled in at the ambassador’s residence, the country team huddled at the embassy, scouring old congressional directories and every- thing else they could find for informa- tion on their visitor. “At a crossroads here,” the ambassador announced. “Potential new era of bilateral hope and understanding on one side — diplo- matic fiasco and descent into deep unspeakable on the other.” Miles elaborated. “Pres. Kotazo has heard the congressman is here, and will take it as an enormous insult if he doesn’t come see him for a courtesy call — fairly grim news for us if he doesn’t do it.” “Definition of grim?” asked Amb. Vodel. “Well, the protocol office men- tioned they could refuse overflight clearances for U.S. aircraft, ban imports of all U.S. goods, expel you and maybe even jam our rebroadcast- ing of Armed Forces television.” “‘Baywatch!’” Wally gasped. “Didn’t we just reverse a military coup to restore Pres. Kotazo’s govern- ment to power?” Ardela asked. “Old news, Dell,” the ambassador sighed. “A new week upon us now ...” “If only there was some connection that would make the congressman want to see the president ...” Miles pulled on his drooping moustache. “He’s on the House Subcommittee on Space and we are after all an official alternate landing site for the space shuttle,” Ardela said. “Possibility,” the ambassador nod- ded. “The new ‘Blue Hawaii Elvis’ stamp they’re issuing here is big news in the stamp community,” Wally chirped. “Is the congressman a philatelist?” “There were allegations,” Miles whispered conspiratorially. “Nothing proven.” “Backlick!” Lloyd shouted. “Steady, Lloyd,” the ambassador cautioned. “No call for salty language.” “No, no — Backlick State Univer- sity!” Lloyd waved a biography of the congressman. “Rep. Wigenrath went there and so did Pres. Kotazo — he was an exchange student! Wouldn’t that con- vince him they should meet?” The ambassador smiled. “Well done, Lloyd. Still the matter of Mrs. Wigenrath, a bit of a skeptic on the utility of a meeting.” “And damned if I know where to find an emu around here,” Miles mut- tered. “I see that she has some dancing background, cabaret things?” Lloyd said. “I think most of her dancing was done on tables,” Ardela muttered. “Or wrapped around a pole ...” “Anyway, perhaps we could con- vince her to come judge our square dance troupe? I know we’re not at competition level yet, but if it got her away so her husband was free for the meeting with the president ...” “Worth a try, Lloyd,” the ambas- sador concluded. “Still some hope for ‘Baywatch,’ Walter ...” T hat evening, Amb. Vodel and Miles paced outside Pres. Kota- zo’s office. The ceremonial guards on either side of the door were dozing on their feet, the plumes on their helmets swaying with their deep breathing. “Two hours in there,” the ambassador whispered uneasily. “One-on-one meeting: margin for error uncomfort- ably high ...” “Anything can happen with con- gressional types,” Miles agreed. “I was the notetaker once for a visiting sena- tor’s meeting with a real hardline min- ister of sport and leisure. Lesson learned there was never call into cred- ibility another man’s hairpiece, even if it’s not on his head. Things got pretty heated— I honestly don’t know whose bite marks these are ...” Just as Miles turned and lifted the back of his safari suit, the heavy doors to the president’s office swung open. Pres. Kotazo and Rep. Wigenrath emerged arm in arm, chanting in uni- son: We are the mighty Beetdiggers of dear old Backlick State! You think our mascot’s kind of lame, But our teams really rate! Beetdigger hearts always ring true, With love for dear old BSU! The congressman and president backed up, then ran at each other and jumped, their bellies colliding in mid- air as they shouted: “Dig the beet!” 42 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / J U LY- A U G U S T 2 0 0 6 We are the mighty Beetdiggers of dear old Backlick State!