Monday, September 14, 2009

Do you know who I am? I'm JOE BIDEN!

This past weekend, three Jews and a Mexican descended upon our nation's capital. They are expected to recover.

Somehow, inexplicably, we were actually let into the White House. Our host graciously arranged for a tour of not just the White House, but the West Wing on Friday evening.

Let me say that again.

We got to go into the West fracking Wing!

(Dies)

As one might expect, the security procedure to allow one to access the West Wing is fairly comprehensive. Somehow, the background checks turned up nothing of consequence and we were allowed to go in.

This was not without caveats. Everyone else got a nice little badge that said "Tour" and nothing else. Because I was Made in Mexico, I got a slightly different badge. Mine said "Clearance A, Must Have Escort" in big black letters set on a bright pink background. I was the only one with this type of badge. Apparently, the reason this particular badge was so loud was to make it easier for the snipers on the roof to have me in their scope at all times.

This, of course, did not stop us from making inappropriate jokes about the Oval Office, mostly at the expense of Bill Clinton.

We also got to see the Cabinet Room and the Roosevelt room, where important people tend to meet. They were roped off, but I managed to sneak in a toe to actually set foot on these rooms. This is probably the closest I'll ever be to the executive offices, so I thought I might as well try.

Why do I think this is the closest I'll get? Because when we walked into the Cabinet Room, my first thought wasn't about all the history that had been made here. My first thought was, "Those tables look perfect for flip cup."

Yes, I know. Moving on.

Unfortunately, we did not see Joe Biden. See, we half expected to be walking around the West Wing when we would have seen a forlorn man wandering about in search of a purpose. Upon spotting us, he would bound over with all the overeagerness of a fraternity president whose rush week isn't going quite as well as he hoped. Then, he would wring our hands and say, "HellohowdoyoudomynameisJOEBIDEN," while grinning furiously. "Let me tell you a story!"

Alas, this did not happen, and perhaps it is for the best. We'd probably still be there, held captives, until a custodial staff member kindly asked Biden to please move so she could vacuum the carpet under him.

The weekend also featured a visit to Five Guys, which is better than In-n-Out. Yes, I said it. Also a visit to the teabagger rally, which merits its own blog post (forthcoming). We also crashed a neighborhood wine tasting, where we stayed long enough for the crazy woman who organized it to literally push us out the door. Yes, really.

At some point, I also took shots with the Mexican busboys at the bar. This was probably a poor decision.

Gary Busey, unfortunately, was a no show. Perhaps we'll see him at our next reunion, which is tentatively scheduled for sunny Mexico.

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