A Collection of Short Stories

A politician or a complete idiot?

I awoke to a gentle breeze. A perturbed sense of trepidation enveloped around my body. It was a new day: a day preordained to be eventful. However, the crusty, uncomfortable hotel pull-out bed consumed the hours of sleep that I would've otherwise had. A lamp stood atop a black marble table. There, occupied outlets hummed a soothing song, beckoning for me to sit up. The haphazardly hung window curtains hardly concealed the burst of radiant light that shone through small slits. Another sound reverberated in my mind: snoring from two roommates, whom they laid aloft on their respective king-sized beds.

Buzzz...

I crept towards my phone, fingers tip-toeing across the stained bed. The time read six in the morning, yet I did not feel any urge to rest any longer. Notifications lit up, bombarding me with texts, missed calls, and other miscellaneous things. The grimy screen obscured by past smears from my greasy fingers reminded me of my inauspicious dilemma. Running the back of my hand against the ragged curtains, I peered through, evaluating the consequences of what was to occur.

"Rise and shine boys!" I bellowed, pushing the curtains open. The two roommates moaned, bemused by my impractical early awakening. After muttering to themselves, they raised from their blankets and proceeded to get ready for the day.

After brushing my teeth, fixing my bed, and slipping on my clothes, I gazed at the mirror, unenthralled. The red button-up was less than flattering beneath my blue-striped tie and my black blazer. I turned to my roommates, nonverbally directing them to my outfit. Two nods of approval and a compliment were sufficient for me. I exited the room early, sliding into my shoes and stepping into the hallway.

Breakfast was indeed eventful, as copious conversations dispersed throughout the meal. Trifling through topics, we were pulled down the rabbit hole, leading us to intriguing positions such as the verity of "prestigious programs." One such example was the one everyone at the table currently attended. Though a revered organization founded in 1985, Envision had its flaws over the years. For instance, the selected Envision program we attended had a considerably high rate of smuggled drugs and alcohol from students, unbenounced to the staff. This program was, of course, the ever-popular Global Young Leaders Program, a program devoted to giving students enticed by the field of politics an opportunity to experience life as a politician.

"It's like we pay, what, three thousand dollars or so to attend this program?" asserted a girl.

"And we get this stupid fuckin' food?" a boy observed.

"Yeah, and we don't even have enough beds for everyone, I gotta, like, sleep on a pull-out," I addressed flatly.

"And we don't even get t', like, do all the events we're s'pposed to do," verbalized the boy, "We're in Washington D-fricken C." Below my line of sight sat a pathetic lump of recklessly slopped scrambled eggs. Its muggy, sopping complexion mirrored the relatively poignant disappointment all the students felt. As the table fell quiet for a short moment.

This was the beginning of what would turn into an extravagant illustration of how bizarre, corrupted, and unfathomable, my experience of undertaking politics would be. Though a short ten days, during the program time slowed to such an unbearable extent that by the third day, it had felt like a month. The messy conflicts, quickly-built love interests, and an overall feeling of discontent consumed all of us. By the end, we had formed a pseudo-family, forced to work together and become close to successfully pass the program.

There was only one more obstacle.

--

Buzzz...

My eyes fluttered open. A stiff object lay flat across my nose, vibrating periodically. My phone. I clutched it, checking the time: six forty-five.

"SHOOT!" I yelped, rolling off the bed with a sudden thud. After a prolonged groan, my hysteria settled in, like snowflakes amassing in a pile of snow. I maniacally dressed myself, attempting to appear somewhat presentable for the UN conference. That's right. THE UN CONFERENCE. I abruptly recalled my advisor specifically instructing me to arrive at the UN conference at six fifty sharp. No earlier, no later. If that wasn't enough, my proposal for the conference was currently with my political partner, whom I forget her name. She was likely about to submit and to contend for a proposal I did all the work for.

BAM BAM BAM

Impetuous thuds pierced my ears. I shrieked once again and ran to open the door.

"You're awake," a woman disparagingly observed, "New York doesn't wait for you to get up, ya know."

"I'm sorry, I'll run over!" I nervously slurred before prompting my legs to frantically pace forward, exiting my dorm room. Even though I knew it would contribute nothing to the speed of the elevator, I rapidly striked the down button, as if pleading for the machine to hasten. Awkward silence and stillness pulverized me, paining my chest as I entered the claustrophobic space and awaited to reach the bottom floor.

DING

I trampled out the doors, hectically sprinting like my life depended on it. My feet pressed against the firm concrete ground, increasingly aching whilst prevailing uphill. St. John's University was bigger than I anticipated, making the journey arduous. I reminisced about only four days ago, when I slept and worked in D.C., somehow or another less aggravating. New York City was a high-strung environment, pathetic enough to allow us fewer than four hours of sleep at a time. Finally, I revealed myself to the alpine structure before me: the conference hall.

The interior was what no words could describe. It was elegant. It was dashing. It was something I had no time to marvel at. My main advisor marched up to me, furrowed his eyebrows, and relaxed. He directed me toward the elevator and noted which room the UN conference was transpiring in. Creeping down the hallway, I exited the elevator, lurking behind the door.

I listened. Indistinct voices vociferating, perhaps the individual countries debating over minute conflicts. With abject shame, I slipped into the room with the immediate attention of every representative and UN cabinet member glaring at me. Their eyes broke through the deepest pits of my being. I stumbled towards my seat before a moderator inquired about my role in the conference.

"I'm representing France in the Unlimited Water Initiative," I murmured, still cognizant of every person still ogling at me. Before a moment's notice, the room resumed its original state: a tempestuous storm of shouting. By the intermittent gross stares of other country representatives, it was apparent that France bore the least dignity and respect among fellow politicians. We had made it clear that many of our members were belligerent buffoons comparable to a second-grade level of maturity and intelligence.

Soon, the chairman of the UN cabinet would articulate, greeting us and decreeing the conference to commence. In previous days, we had learned the customs and rules for attending such a time-restricted operation. Two minutes for an explanation of our proposal, one minute for opposition arguments, and one minute for proposition counterarguments. This would be a repetitive cycle that would bore me until my proposal was announced.

Thus, at this moment, my body sat temporarily paraylzed. My speech and notes were left in my dorm room.

"Shit," I muttered, sitting up and skittishly greeting the conference members. Flustered, I stumbled through the proposal, making sure to mention pertinent objectives and applications of the proposal on a worldwide scale. The lack of sleep combined with the paradoxical restlessness muddled into a nervous wreck, compromising any chance I had at the proposal. The deplorable presentation of an idea that seemed more than meager gave me an inescapably horrid sense of despair. Hopelessness overcame me, only coming to a halt when I was asked to counter an argument made against the "Unlimited Water Initiative." Again, a desolate attempt at speech further mortified me, shaping an abhorrently sad perception of myself. My self esteem dropped into a proverbial void. My facial expression lost all light, and I sat disappointed. My friends whispered behind me, noting my rare instance of unhappiness. My once jolly aura darkened.

"The Unlimited Water Initiative," the Vice Chairman of the UN cabinet began, "This proposal has been rejected."