Back in California, Chevron sponsors various charitable events and I got to go along as a trophy husband to fill a seat at a table and clap loudly whenever Chevron was mentioned. Here in DC Chevron doesn't sponsor charities, it sponsors the government! Which is why, when no one else wants to go, I get to attend an Ambassadorial Reception. This is a relatively new event I'm told, where all the top diplomats in Washington come to the State Department on 4th July to celebrate patriotism or something. The theme this year was "Baseball: America's Pastime". There was free food and drink, which is all that really matters to me.
The State Department is a nondescript concrete building just over from the White House, but inside it's been decked out in fine style and stocked full of historical items from the US's long and illustrious history of diplomacy ("speak softly, and carry a big stick", as someone once said). As I meandered through the The John Quincy Adams State Drawing Room I passed the desk on which the Treaty of Paris was signed in 1783, when the UK formally recognised the USA as a country and ended the so-called Revolutionary War. A dark day that one, but I resisted scratching "Dave woz ere 2015" into the surface.
The main Franklin room was stuffed with diplomatic entourages. I held the door for the Israeli Ambassador, brushed shoulders with the top man from The Vatican, and exchanged a knowing glance with the Ambassador from Malta. I then tucked into the gourmet hot dogs, popcorn, candyfloss, and ton of other baseball-themed goodies. It was, to use the language of these parts, awesome.
The best thing was that it was a family occasion, so Pete was able to come along. The 4th July fireworks didn't start until well past his bedtime but we kept him fueled-up on sugar and carbs from the aforementioned snacks. A gorgeous 2-yr-old girl whose parents were from Turkey came up to him, started stroking his shirt and took his hand, but following British protocol he just stood there frowning and refused to return her affections. "In a few years you'll be begging for beautiful Turkish girls to give you that sort of attention!" I told him as he walked coldly-but-politely away. Ah, but the young always ignore the advice of the older and wiser.
After I'd enjoyed the generous hospitality to its full it was time for fireworks. To add to the ridiculousness of the whole situation, Chevron had a roped-off VIP section that none of the great-and-good were allowed into. But we let them in, because big oil is nothing if not philanthropic, especially where future international drilling rights might be concerned.
The fireworks were spectacular, if only red, white and blue for some reason. After the oohs and aahs were over we had to make our way home. A helicopter to get us out of DC had been strangely overlooked by the Secretary of State and we once again joined thousands of hoi polloi and shuffled towards a metro station and back to real life, where I feel a lot less of a fraud and where my diplomatic skills are put to daily use negotiating with a toddler. Maybe I am qualified to work in the State Department.
We were greeted by an ex-president, William Howard Taft (that really famous one), who is one of the local baseball team Washington Nationals' mascots. Pete was not entirely freaked out.
The Adams Drawing Room, with the addition of pics of past presidents throwing out first pitches at various baseball games.
Here's Ronnie, winding up for a curveball. Not the best attendance I have to say Ron.
And here's that Treaty of Paris desk. The genuine article! Although the treaty on there is a copy. They have a painting of the signing hanging in the room, incomplete as the Brits refused to pose. We refuse to play baseball to this day!
Ah, some civilisation in this place.
Take me out to the ball game.
Keeping him going with a balanced diet.
Patriots, but sadly for this country only one of us will become president.
The view from the balcony. Yeah, nice.
I enjoy a Department-of-State-sized G&T, all on the taxpayer's dollar! Or probably Chevron's, who already pay for all my G&Ts anyway.
The host was Ambassador Selfridge, the Chief of Protocol. Americans have protocol? I thought normally they just push in. They also had the organist and announcer from the Washington Nationals' stadium, as well as the team manager, who I believe is famous.
Looking out from the VIP area.
Eager anticipation.
Off they go!
Wow!
Oooh!
Aaah!
Until next year.
I needed a trophy, and with Pete ferreting through every cupboard he eventually unearthed these paper towels with the seal of state on! I pocketed a year's supply, so our guests can enjoy official DC bathroom luxury while staying. Happy Independence Day!
