Traditionally, embassies’ biggest party of the year (for guests, not for staff) is a Fourth of July celebration. At these, we invite a bunch of local contacts and fellow diplomats to come over and partake in some red, white and blue fun. There’s always food and alcohol involved and the event is the more important “representational” event of the year. Since it’s ridiculously hot in The Sandbox in July, though, we do our event early. Like March early.
They require a bunch of planning, and when I was in Istanbul, I was THE planner. Before that, I coordinated all the volunteers. Even here The Sandbox before, I wound up doing something or another. Blessedly, we didn’t do one in Minsk because of COVID, but even last year – which we ultimately canceled due to a COVID resurgence – I was on the “food committee.”
Somehow, this year, I escaped. I knew nothing about the planning, which is usually done over months. I had it on my calendar but forgot about it until I got an email asking for game-night volunteers. Figuring what the heck, I threw my hat in. When the sign-up list came around for specific jobs, I saw “golf cart driver” on there and couldn’t reply fast enough.
OF COURSE I would drive a golf cart. Any day you can drive a golf cart, it’s a great day.
My office has one. It’s a four-seater and I use it to go pick up guests at the far gate, which we call “Disney.” (Remember, The Sandbox is about the size of the Vatican.) I tend to ask them if they’ve been to the compound before and if not, I usually offer to show them around a little – just to extend the drive.
Lumped in there with “other duties as assigned,” driving the golf cart is so much fun. The normal prelude is a stop by the car wash, where I get to power-wash (and suds) the thing, always risking shorting it out. Since I hose out the inside as well as the outside (“Sand”box, remember), I’m never sure if somehow I leak water into the dash or something and won’t be able to start it, but so far I’ve been lucky.
Speed bumps are tricky – especially when I wind up getting an 8-seater and have it loaded down – and the blinkers don’t seem to work but it’s totally my jam. On that lovely Independence Day Party night, I fantasized that driving a golf cart could be my retirement job. I love it.
Way back when in Detroit, I remember working the McCarty Cancer Foundation golf tournament. I was Beer Girl. Who doesn’t welcome free beer out of a golf cart? Still the best volunteer gig ever.
Independence Day night was a blast. I drove people back and forth for 4-5 hours. Fortunately, there was only one speed bump for people leaving and none for people on their way in. The way out was more fun because I got to ask all the guests their favorite part of the evening.
Mine was the band. Granted, I did not set foot in the venue, but it was outdoors and I was right outside so I could hear everything. We had an Air Force band and holy cow, they were incredible. They’d played another social event a few nights before so I knew they were good, but hello. The lead singer was awesome (and a heck of a pickleball player) and shifted seamlessly from Adele to Metallica to Charlie Daniels to Journey. Hanging around outside, I think I scared a local staff colleague by knowing ALL the words to “Devil Went Down to Georgia.”
All in all, the evening was fabulous. We had good music and great weather. I mean, I have no idea what happened inside the walls, but everyone seemed happy.
This week, too, I got to drive another of the 8-seaters for a smaller event. This one was for guests of my section, and they’re a little more laid back and were a little less dressed up. As I was driving from the gate to the venue, one remarked, “Now I know why you call it the Disney gate.”
Yep, I might have to stick in my application in a few years. It would make every day at work a great one.
