Spring 1985, Issue 3

My trip to Washington D.C.

by Marc Sandknop
Koala staff

President Reagan? Yeah, I know the guy. I would never vote for him, but he's a swell guy. How do I know? I've met him, that's how I know. I was his best buddy for a day. I have an open invitation to drop by the White House any time I'm in town, and I don't even have to go through the servant's entrance like some of Ronnie's old acting friends.

It was only the fifth week of the fall quarter and my profs were already demanding that I turn in papers and study for midterms. I could feel myself succumbing to the grind. I needed a break. So, when a friend told me he was flying out to Washington D.C. for a interview, I decided to join him.

Me and my buddie Ronnie

We arrived at Dulles airport at 5:47 p.m. on October 31- Halloween. Just in time for Georgetown's infamous Halloween Bash. Peter and I rushed to our hotel and got into our costumes, then we headed straight for Georgetown. 30,000 people packed into five city blocks. Secretaries and lawyers, college students and diplomats, taxi drivers and perverts, a huge throng of drinking and dancing party-goers had gathered. Peter and 1 followed three girls dressed as vestal virgins into a bar in the hope that the truth in advertising law had not yet reached the District of Columbia. After that point the night is but a fuzzy blur in my memory. The last think I remember is Peter chasing a couple of girls down the street with the biggest cucumber I had ever seen, while I climbed a lamp post to avoid the purple pigs milling about on the street.

While I may not remember how that night ended, I certainly remember how the next day started. I woke up and I'll be damned if I didn't find myself on one of those grates where the steam comes out so you don't freeze to death during the night. Then, imagine my surprise when I realize that the smelly old wino I'm sharing the grate with is none other than the Speaker of the House, Tip O'Neill. Believe it or not, Tip is even uglier in person than he is on t.v. Combine this with his morning breath and you get something that resembles a cross between Ethel Merman and the Creature from the Black Lagoon. I guess finding Tippy on the grate or in a dumpster in the morning after one of his drunken binges is a pretty common occurrence. Just as I got to thinking I should roll the old drunk and get the hell out of there, this green van rounded the corner and screeched to a halt in front of us. Five guys, all wearing masks and rubber gloves, poured out of the van. They scoop Tip up and toss him in the van with a few other passed out Congressmen (the Senate has its own drunk wagon). One of the guys tossed me a twenty dollar bill and warned me to keep my mouth shut, then he got in the van and they disappeared in a cloud of smoking rubber.

I got up and staggered back to my hotel. A shower and some clean clothes made me feel a little more human. I grabbed my camera, left a note for Peter, and I headed off towards the Mall for some serious touristry.

I was wandering around the Hirsshorn Art Museum, appreciating Picasso and trying to pick up on the high school girls, when I accidentally bumped into this lady. She was staring at this marble sculpture of some naked guy with a funny look on her face. I immediately realize it's Rita Jenrette, so I strike up a conversation. After a while, I told her I was going to go check out the Washington Monument and she asked if she could go with me. We head off for the Monument. We were crossing the Mall towards the Monument when she started acting weird. Her eyes took on this glazed look and she kept muttering about "phallic symbolism" and "fertility rites." The closer we got to the obelisk, the harder her breathing got. When we finally got into the place, she went completely nuts. No sooner did the two of us get into an elevator by ourselves when she starts barking and growling like a dog. Let me tell you, that was one of the craziest elevator rides I ever had. By the time the doors finally opened she had collapsed in a corner in a semi-comatose state of bliss. I started to walk out when she suddenly wrapped herself around my legs and begged me not to leave her. I turned her down. I hate women who beg.

As I left the Washington Monument I spotted the White House just down the road, so I walked on over. I'm cruising around, taking pictures with my little Nikon and enjoying the view, when I come to this open gate. It didn't have one of the "Authorized Personnel Only" signs on it, so I walked on in. I don't know if you've ever been on the White House grounds, but let me tell you , it is lush and it is dense. Within ten minutes I'm hopeless lost. I'm thrashing around in some pine trees, wishing I had my Swiss Army knife and a few flares, when I stumble into this clearing. Right in the middle of the clearing, enjoying Lawrence Welk on his ghetto blaster and soaking up some rays, is the President of the United States.

Now, you may not like the President's economic policy, and you may not like his actions in Central America, or his record on environmental issues, or his callous attitude towards the poor, or his defense spending, or his haircut or his wife. In fact, you may openly scorn him for his many public displays of blatant ignorance and stupidity. But you can't deny the fact that he is a nice guy who smiles a lot. He motioned for me to sit in an empty lawn chair and then he pulled a Coor's out of the ice-chest for me. We sat around for awhile, talking baseball and foreign affairs (he knows a lot more about baseball than he does about foreign affairs. He still thinks Franco is the President of Spain.) Ronnie looked at his watch and told me that he had a game of touch football at 2:00, and then he asked if I would care to play. I jumped at the opportunity.

Ronnie led me out of the forest and to a lawn behind the White House. Next think I know I'm standing around with a bunch of senators and lobbyists and cabinet members. Ronnie and George were the captains and they started choosing sides. If I told you that I wasn't excited when Ronnie picked me first 1 would be lying through my teeth. l just hoped that I wouldn't let Ronnie or my team down.

The game was a good one. Ronnie was our quarterback, and if he could lead our country half as well as he led our team, the US of A wouldn't have a trouble in the world. I guess George wants to be President real bad because he had his team blitzing on every play. Ronnie was cool though, and he kept calmly flipping these little screen passes to the backs. I was assigned to cover their deep threat, Donald Regan. I justified my being picked first when I intercepted a Bob Dole pass near the end of the game, and with the help of an Edwin Meese body block on George Shultz it was clear sailing into the end zone for the game winning touchdown. Casper Weinberger was pretty pissed off his team had lost so he got sullen and wouldn't talk to anyone. No one really cared because Casper is kind of a geek and he blocks like a girl.

Editor's Note: The only reason we printed this disgusting, slanderous, gross and provocative story is that author, Marc Sandknop assured us that every word was true. We believe him.