Ridendo Castigat Morels (He corrects morals by ridicule)

Ridendo Castigat Morels (He corrects morals by ridicule)

I’m such an idiotic she-peacock; I do have to stop and laugh at myself.

As I’ve been telling you, I am smart and educated and God knows what other humble statements like that I made. But trust me, when I am dumb, I go full blown stupid.

So, here I am again at a very nice event in Washington, D.C.  Fun, international, whatever. I only deeply care to meet Ambassadors.  I love their titles, personalities and most importantly the fact that they speak different languages and can tell me stories that make me long to get moving again. I do have a wanderer pirate inside of me.

I neglect other people. I am polite and say hello to everyone. I am polite but acidic to self-important-acting people; I am mocking airs and feminine jealousies. But I’m really kind to kind, polite, fun and respectful people: AMBASSADORS.  

Think about it. They represent an entire country. They are super cool men or women and they don’t even put on airs.

Anyway, some I’m lucky to build friendships with; some I run into and I’m so happy every time I see them; some I don’t know and haven’t met yet, but suspect they are ambassadors or diplomats.
While on a look out for ambassadors, I get frustrated when other people take my time away from them. And tonight was that kind of night. Confusion reigned under Ioana’s bleached hair.

After talking to a Moroccan diplomat , the Romanian Ambassador and few others….here comes a small, very cute young man, exotic looking, something Asian and he says, “Hello Ioana, how are you? Fun to see you again.”  

He grabs me by the waist and gives me a peck on the cheek. I reciprocate, knowing that I know him, but not actually remembering who he was.

“How have you been,” I ask racking my brain for the identity of this young Asian man.

“All good. Busy but having fun.”

Obviously that doesn’t mean anything in this town.

“How about you?”

“Same here,” I answered. “Busy, but fun busy.”

“We had a blast at the last event with you,” the cute guy tells me and his male friend.

“Yes, we did,” I respond vaguely remembering an Embassy Night Event where I probably met him. Fun, friendly, he must work for an embassy I’m assuming.

“You are so beautiful and exotic to us,”  he said kindly.

“Oh no, you two are exotic, especially you with your pretty slanted eyes working for the Dutch Embassy. That’s who you are, right?”

The cute guy’s face fell.  

“Ioana, how could you do this to me. You don’t remember me? Really?”

“I do,” I lied.

“No, I don’t work for the Netherlands.”  He then displays funny mellow-dramatics.  “I am from…”  And he mentions a country in EuroAsia.

“Oh yes, I remember,” I say having no clue — but they are so fun and they both look alike and I can’t tell what country exactly.  “Genghis Khan was awesome; you must be proud.”

The cute guy looks at me with a genuinely sad face.  “Ioana, that is Mongolia. We don’t have Genghis Khan.”

“Well, then tell you darn Ambassador to promote your country’s culture so we can all learn something.  You, the cute guy, seriously.”

“You don’t remember my name?”

“No, so I call you cute guy.  Look I’m an author alive in a parallel world and you are the cute guy in one half of my brain. And the other half is eternally hibernating.  But on a serious note, cute guy, you should tell your Ambassador to organize an Embassy Night at the University Club.”

“Ioana,” he says seriously.

“Yes, cute guy.”

“I think I deserve another kiss on the cheek to help my broken heart. You did truly break my heart.”

“I’m sorry. What did I do?  I confused geography? Tell the Ambassador I’ll make it right.”

“I AM The Ambassador!” He said with authority.

“Oh.  Yes, of course, Your Excellency. Yes, I was just playing. I mean I am well versed in diplomacy; it was a joke…otherwise I wouldn’t have called you ‘cute guy’.  I meant, Your Excellency.”
“Will you remember me now?” he asks.

“I think I will. The question is…will you please forgive and forget me?”

Only time will tell…