I'm an International Incident

Dear Presidente/Chancellor/Dear Leader/Supreme Ruler,

Please let Viceroy de Campo into your country. He practically promises not to spur a revolution, impregnate any members of the ruling family, sing karaoke, instigate a coupe, or introduce your people to the magnificent work of Jimmy Buffett.

In short, he will possibly be on his best behavior.

HUGZ,
The U.S. State Department

Having spent ones entire adult life in the military industrial complex comes at a heavy price. Namely, I haven’t a clue how to function as a civilian or even know how civilians function.

Take for instance travel overseas. How does a regular Dick or Jane go about that? You get a passport, book travel, get a tourist visa (maybe), and have a grand ole time at some ridiculous resort with high walls so you don’t see the famine which engulfs the local population.

I’m not as lucky with international travel. Take my latest adventure for instance. It’s not enough for me to have a passport. I need to get special permission to enter some people’s territory.

Seriously.

The past few weeks I’ve been working on gaining legal entry, country clearances, to some lovely locals. I can’t just put in the visit justification line “drink beer” either. No, I have to go into a lengthy justification on why they should even let me in the door.

I suppose a bad reputation is better than no reputation.

Luckily, I have people that work all the paperwork for me. So when I put “drink beer” on a form I know that a small army of pencil pushers are burning the midnight oil penning a work of highly technical, yet highly fictitional, letter of justification for travel. I know this because they call my office sobbing something about never seeing their families because of the work they put into my applications.

These countries should thank me for jumping through such hoops! I could easily bypass all this nonsense and slip in under the guise of a tourist. I’m looking out for them, giving them a heads up that I’m stopping by! This allows for them to organize a national disaster drill, stock up on O+ blood, and hide their daughters.

Some gratitude!

I’m casting too much blame across the sea. The real stumbling block to my adventures, er…official travel is my own country and the clean as a whistle bureaucrats’ which wield the stamp of approval.

“de Campo, you stole the King’s entire camel herd last time you were there!”

For the record, those camels where in search of leadership and just happened to follow me back to the hotel. ..pool area…where I gave them booze…and I may have referred to them as my mythical camel army of the damned hell bent on destroying the evil sheep…on a live Al-Jazeera broadcast.

You guys are the diplomats! You straighten it out! Don’t you get paid to clean these sorts of cultural misunderstandings up? I get paid to be cheeky and wreak mischievous hilarity that everyone can look back on and laugh about.

I mean come on! It’s not like we’re going to have another Istanbul incident of 2003 on our hands here!

I practically promise.